


Academic Integrity

by paralleltonone



Category: One Direction
Genre: College!AU, Drug Use, Explicit Language, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 08:39:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paralleltonone/pseuds/paralleltonone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was a boy whose entire life had clearly revolved around throwing a pigskin ball around, who people whispered about, and women and men alike fawned over. He was a boy who didn’t know Zayn even existed until he needed him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

          Zayn shouldn’t have been there. He had an essay due in the morning and he should have been at his laptop, constructing thoughts about federalism based on what he’d learned in American National Government that he couldn’t grasp and had no interest in catching a hold of. However, it’d been decided that those concepts were a necessity for anyone delving into Biochemisty and Genetics.

          Zayn shouldn’t have been there, taking in the contending colors of black and gold, and their visitors in red and blue. But there was a game that night, so he settled into the bleachers of the stadium, wrapped tight in the black hoodie that he wore in an attempt to show a little school spirit. Over three years and he still couldn’t entirely understand the game itself, what was so important about NCAA or what it stood for, or the spectacle that came in the fall and winter months when those boys set foot on that field. Still, Zayn was there at the games; he was always at the games because _he_ was there.

          He was a boy whose entire life had clearly revolved around throwing a pigskin ball around, who was there because of family tradition and because the Southern university wanted _him_ (maybe even needed him), who men and women clad in colors of the pros had started to settle into the bleachers for at the start of the season. He was a boy who couldn’t take two steps on campus without being greeted or congratulated, who people whispered about and women and men alike fawned over, who didn’t know Zayn even existed. Same field, different majors, but classes together for over three years, and projects worked on together. Yet Liam Payne had no idea that Zayn Malik existed.

          And that was really why Zayn shouldn’t have been there.

________________________________________________________________________

“Damn Malik, how long did you stay up last night?”

          Zayn lifted his head from the textbook he’d been using as a pillow, hazel eyes falling on his best friend who was standing near the table with Zayn’s saving grace in his hands.

“Is that my coffee?”

“Yeah,” Niall nodded, handing the Starbucks container over.

          Without another word, Zayn quickly took it away, lifting the top to blow gently at the steaming liquid only to take several sips, not bothering to care about temperature or taste.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” the blond questioned.

After taking what seemed like his hundredth sip, Zayn finally paused, “I went to bed after 6:00, slept for an hour and a half before I got up to make it to my 8:00.”

“Zayn, I left you at the library yesterday evening and you said you were almost done with your paper. What the hell did you do last night?”

          The shout of a boy across the courtyard caught Zayn’s attention and he looked in the direction of that table, spotting three males approaching it and giving eager handshakes and hugs in greeting to the people surrounding it. Three males who stuck together like glue, appeared to never take off sweats, t-shirts and tanks unless they were trading them for uniforms and varsity wear, and who Zayn kind of despised. Just a little bit.

“Zayn?”

“You know, I thought that once high school was over, I’d stop hating jocks so much.”

“I’m a jock and you don’t hate me.”

Zayn’s brows furrowed as he looked to Niall through black-rimmed lenses, “Niall, you’re a cheerleader,” he said. “A cheerleader on the verge of getting cut because you can’t bulk up. You are not a jock, Horan.”

“I told the coach that those girls need to stop gaining weight! It’s not fair to me.”

          With a roll of his eyes, Zayn took another sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving the men across the courtyard. Louis Tomlinson, a plethora of medals in track and baseball but the shining star of the entire Political Science department, was Liam’s best friend or, to label him better, his henchman. Then, always at their sides and under Liam’s ass, was Harry Styles, a curly-haired Sociology major that Zayn was convinced was too nice and too smart to surround himself with the people he did and who took orders from Liam like his life depended on it both off the field and on it as a running back.

          And of course, there was Liam Payne. Zayn could fill a series split into volumes with the things he had to say about Liam Payne.

“I’m going to the library, do some studying or something,” Zayn stood, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

“All right -” Niall glanced up, catching eyesight of a redhead making her way into the student union building not far away, and he gathered up his stuff. “I’ll meet you there in a bit.” Niall hurried to the building’s door as she went in, calling to her, “Haley, wait!”

          Zayn sighed, picking up his textbook covered with a print of red and white stripes and stars of blue, his notebook he’d over-doodled on and the cup of coffee he’d already downed and finished off, only to toss that into a trash bin on his way to the campus’ main library.

“Hey, Zayn.”

          Turning in the direction of his name, his eyes immediately fell on Harry as it’d been his voice he’d heard. With a smile, Zayn waved back and before he could even turn to continue on his way, he heard Louis snort and laugh under his breath, prompting a few soft chuckles from the other people at the table. Everyone except for Harry and Liam, the latter of whom hadn’t even looked up from the cell phone he was texting on.

“Louis!” Harry scolded half-heartedly as Zayn turned to leave with a roll of his eyes.

          Sometimes, Zayn cursed the people who preached to him that high school and college would be so different because they lied. Asshole didn’t have an age limit, he’d come to learn.

          Zayn walked the distance along paths lined with oak trees and beautifully landscaped greenery that he’d probably lose a limb to the administration to if he even thought about walking across. At the same time, he could have shaved four minutes off of his walk if he had; he knew because he’d calculated it during the seven minutes it took him to get from that courtyard to the library before.

          Padding up the marble steps and through the revolving door pass the metal detectors, Zayn passed the front desk and went straight to the elevator. If there was anyway he was going to have peace, he had to go to the less common areas of the entire library. As soon as he stepped on, Zayn pressed the button to close the doors, but someone’s yell caused him to quickly push the button doing the opposite.

“Whoa! Wait, hold on!”

          As the doors slid open all the way again, Zayn groaned inwardly, wishing he had let them close. Liam stepped into the elevator with a wave, flashing a smile to Zayn, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners.

“What floor?” Zayn sighed, pushing away from the wall next to the keypad to stand up straight.

“Um,” Liam said, looking over to the keypad. “Three.”

          Zayn looked at the keypad where the number 3 was lit courtesy of his earlier decision that he was now changing and reached up to press the unlit number 4. The ride was silent, and as the car slowed before finally coming to a stop on the equally silent floor, Zayn looked over at Liam who didn’t move from his spot.

“This is your floor, right?”

“Oh, I meant four. I’m going to four.”

          The elevators door shut before Zayn had a chance to get off and he was left to ride up one more level where he stepped onto the floor littered with books that should have been an English Lit major’s dream. Either he was wrong about that fact or the university didn’t have many English Literature majors, though, because the floor was fairly empty whenever he went to it. Walking pass the library assistant’s desk, Zayn could hear the soft padding of shoes brushing against the carpet and he glanced behind him to spot Liam there.

Stopping, Zayn turned to face him, “Will you please quit following me?”

“I,” Liam began, but something in Zayn’s face must have made him cut his thoughts short. “Sorry.”

          Zayn managed to find a table to the back meant for six and settled down with his Molecular Genetics textbook to catch up on homework that wasn’t due for another day or two without Liam Payne running interference, a joke Zayn made to himself that he thought was hilarious. Or not.

          He’d just gotten his face settled into problem 3 of about 75 at the back of chapter four when he found himself breathing in the same cologne he’d almost been intoxicated by in the elevator, and feeling the same warmth that’d been too close for comfort when he tried to find solitude on the library floor.

“Look, this isn’t one of your football games.”

          Yeah, that probably would have been funnier if Liam had heard Zayn’s witty thoughts about him running interference, and he definitely wouldn’t have looked at Zayn with eyebrows fusing together and forehead crinkling in confusion.

“Sorry, I just…what do you want, Payne?” Zayn sighed in exasperation.

“I need help.”

“So?” Zayn shrugged, looking back to his notebook.

“Well,” Liam started, settling in on the edge of the table. “You're kinda good at math. I figured you'd help me.”

“What made you think I'd be interested in that?” Zayn laughed, being shushed by the library assistant who’d just settled back at her desk.

Liam glanced at the woman ahead who'd returned her focus to stamping the piles of books on her desk before leaning in to Zayn with a whisper, “Because...if I don't pass, I can't play the homecoming game or anymore games at all, and I may as well just forget about showing my face here on campus again if I don't.”

“And whose problem is that?”

“Look, Malik, I'm trying to be nice to you. Please help me?”

          Zayn looked at the well-built brunette in front of him, his hazel eyes trailing over the colors of black and gold on his jacket, the letters and numbers lining the sleeves and left breast. His eyes scanned up further to full pink lips that he'd been dying to have on his since the first time he saw him, sometime going on four years ago when they first were orientated and when Zayn knew that he was well out of his league.

          Even as freshman, he was out of the league of the golden boy whose family’s name hung on plaques and walls around the campus, who’d been sought after for enrollment before he even applied, who owned that university in a way no one could deny.

          Zayn was so far beyond anything Liam would ever want, and he was going to make it to a point to be far from anything he needed. His eyes locked on Liam’s brown ones, gentle, pleasant, and Zayn smiled.

“Remember that year in Organic Chem lab when you switched seats with four different people just to avoid being partnered up with me?”

“Zayn, I...no, not really.”

“My parents always told me that it's never good to hold grudges,” Zayn murmured, shutting the textbook, and stuffing his notebook inside of it. “But I've also heard that revenge is the best cure for any grudge.” Zayn stood, grabbing his backpack. “Hope the dose isn't too hard to swallow. Goodbye, Liam.”

          Watching Zayn go, Liam was floored, but he wasn't about to just let it end that way. Hopping from the table, he hurried after him and caught him in the hallway by the elevators.

“Malik, come on,” he stopped in front of him, that Southern drawl Zayn found more and more charming every time he heard it coming out heavily as he pleaded, “I'm sorry for hurting your feelings. Please, I'm begging you. I really need your help.”

          Zayn stared up at Liam straight-faced and unmoving, the tension between them heavy. Liam's eyes were earnest, thick eyebrows contorted in an effort to emphasize his need for Zayn and all of Zayn's academic prowess. Bringing his lower lip between pearly whites, Zayn smirked.

“You don't _look_ like you're begging to me.”

          Liam looked taken aback then, hoping Zayn wasn't asking of him what he thought he was. But Zayn didn't say a word. He simply cocked an eyebrow with a nod of his head, and Liam knew. With a sigh, Liam glanced down the hallway to where the assistant sat and two students stood near her desk, engrossed in a book one of them appeared to be checking out. There was no way he wouldn't be seen, even if by only those three people, but Zayn wasn't letting up.

“Unbelievable,” Liam groaned, moving to cold tile, settling on his knees. “Zayn. Can you help me pass Calculus?”

“Say please.”

“Please.”

“Louder. Scream it.”

“Fuck you, Malik.”

“Fuck your games then,” Zayn turned to walk away.

          Reaching out, Liam grabbed his honey-toned arm, fingers gripping him gently and Zayn felt a jolt shoot through him that he felt when Liam so much as looked at him, a shock of intensity that was the result of wanting him so bad, too bad.

“Zayn! _Please_ , I'll do anything. Just...I need you.”

          As if Liam's touch wasn't enough, his words hit right at Zayn's core and it took everything in him not to pin him down to the white tile below them that decorated the hallway and live out everything he'd imagined between the two of them for nearly four years. He wanted to say no, wanted to hurt Liam the way he'd hurt longing for him for those years, but he couldn't. And he wouldn't.

“Well, meet me here after 3:15; I’ve got a class before then. Don't be late. If you are, you can forget the help.”

A smile spread from ear to ear, Liam quickly stood, cupping Zayn's face in his hands before he laid a kiss on his cheek, “Thank you, thank you, thank you so much! I won't be late, I promise!” Hurrying to the stairs Zayn was always too lazy to take, Liam called back as he went down them, “3:30, at the latest. I won't forget!”

          Zayn was almost frozen in place, a part of him screaming on the inside from the kiss and the other part of him wanting to push Liam down the stairs for it. Then, there was another part of him, about 75 percent of him that wanted to get to the nearest restroom to get out all of those emotions and frustrations that being around Liam and being kissed by him had caused to pop up. With a ding the elevator doors slid open and Niall slowly stepped off, peeking down the hall and smiling when he saw Zayn.

“Hey, I went to where we normally sit and you weren’t there.” Niall frowned a little when he saw the frustrated expression on Zayn’s face. “What’s the matter? Did something happen?”

“I have to tutor Liam Payne,” Zayn explained. “And I need to go to the bathroom really bad; just stay here and please don’t follow me, Niall.”

          Walking down the stairs back to the first floor and into the bathroom, Zayn found his way into a stall to the back. Yeah, sometimes, other little things from high school repeated themselves in college.

________________________________________________________________________

          Zayn didn’t know why he agreed to Liam’s wishes. He’d planned for roughly two hours in the library, maybe less than that, but nothing more. This right here? This was definitely more.

          Looking up to the Victorian-style house, Zayn read over the white Greek letters on the front of it and sighed. This was going to be a bad idea. This was going to be a really bad idea. He knew that even as he stepped up the blocks of stone to the front door, ringing the doorbell and being greeted by a rather familiar face.

“Zayn! What are you doing here?” Harry smiled.

“Um, I’m here to see Liam.”

“Liam?”

“Yeah, he is here, right?” Zayn chewed on his lower lip.

“Yeah, come on in.” Harry looked confused as he step aside to let Zayn enter, closing the door behind him. “I’ll go get him for you.”

          Zayn stood in the foyer awkwardly, eyes scanning the walls lined with pictures of men long deceased, but still honored for making the brotherhood in that house possible, walls lined with awards and plaques of achievements made in team efforts, walls lined with things Zayn just didn’t get in colors of crimson and white, but that meant a hell of a lot to Liam and every other man in that house.

          Hearing the thumping of feet against wood, Zayn turned back to the stairs where he spotted Harry coming down and the other boy motioned for him to follow, so Zayn did as he was asked.

“I didn’t know you and Li were friends,” Harry remarked as they climbed the stairs.

“I...we’re – I’m just helping him with a class we have.”

“Oh…this is about the no pass, no play thing, isn’t it?” Harry sighed. “I wish I could have helped, but…well, I’m shit at math.”

“Yeah…” Zayn sighed a bit, letting Harry lead him down the hallway to a room at the end of the hall that was practically set apart from the rest.

          Harry pushed the cracked door open all the way and let Zayn walk in to where Liam was at his desk, back to the door, with iTunes open, clearly not doing any work. With a smile, Harry was gone and Zayn stepped further into the room, looking at the layout of it: a loft bed on both sides of the room with piles of clothing and books and who knew what else occupying the blank space beneath them, a desk near each bed covered in little pieces belonging to the occupants of the room, pieces that let Zayn know Liam was into some really interesting things, things he hadn’t expected; unlike his roommate who apparently thought a poster-sized version of Kate Upton’s Sports Illustrated swimsuit cover made good decor.

“Holy shit, how many Unleashed sets do you have, dude?!” Zayn asked, excitedly, going over to Liam’s bookshelf covered in little books, but plenty of Star Wars figurines.

Liam flinched, startled, and removed his headphones as he turned to look at Zayn. “Um…like 30, but I want to get more,” Liam said as he moved to stand, going over to the shelf to stand next to Zayn.

“I never would have guessed you were into that kind of stuff,” Zayn said, looking at each of the boxed figures.

“I just really like collecting, I guess. I’ve got others at home…like from other franchises and other movies I like and stuff.”

          And he had the means to, as far as Zayn knew.

“So, you ready to get started?”

“Um, yeah, just a sec,” Liam cleared off a chair that’d been so covered in junk that Zayn hadn’t even noticed it before that moment, giving the guest a place to sit. “I’m sorry I had you come over here, but we’ve got something going on here tonight and I had to get stuff together – like this playlist – so I couldn’t come to the library.”

Zayn couldn’t help the way he turned his nose up, “A party? It’s, like, Wednesday.”

“Just a few people, no big deal,” Liam said, going back to his laptop and clicking around before he exited the music program. “You can stay if you’d like to.”

“No, thanks, I’ve got a lot of homework and plus, it’s not really my thing.”

“You don’t know that unless you try it,” Liam laughed.

“It’s a party; parties aren’t my thing.”

“It’s not a party! Just something small for one of my brothers; it’s his birthday today.”

“A birthday party.”

Liam groaned with a soft chuckle, “It’s not a party - just really the guys in the house. You should stay, have some free drinks and free food. This’ll be my little way of thanking you.”

________________________________________________________________________

          It wasn’t a party. It wasn't a party at all. It was a blowout. Zayn had never thought small would mean some hundred people crammed all over the inside and outside of the house, but yet, there it was. And where the hell was the birthday boy? _Who_ the hell was the birthday boy?

“Hey there, Zayn, enjoying yourself?!” Harry shouted excitedly when the other man stepped over to him, filling up a cup from a keg only to hand the cup to Zayn.

“Um, I’m looking for Liam. I just wanted to get my stuff out of his room and I think he locked the door.”

“Oh, he was outside last time I saw him,” Harry informed Zayn, making a hand motion that Zayn had to assume meant something along the lines of a blunt being smoked.

          Setting the cup down, Zayn made his way through the crowds of people to the back door, going out of it straight into the haze of smoke covering the patio. He didn’t get to call Liam’s name to get his attention because his coughing alerted him to his presence instead.

“Shit, Malik, you all right?” Liam laughed, going over to Zayn and patting him on the back as if that move would do any good.

          Shaking his head, Zayn grabbed Liam’s shirt and pulled him inside away from the smoke to allow himself let his lungs fill back up with air.

“I need to get my stuff out of your room,” Zayn’s voice cracked as he spoke upon slowly coming down from his coughing spell.

“Why? You’re not leaving, are you? I was hoping we could finish after this is over.”

“I really have to get back to my apartment and do my own homework.”

“Hey! Um, what’s your name? Zed? Zim?” one of the boys Liam had been seated outside with peeked his head inside at them, and Zayn recognized him as Liam’s roommate Andy.

“It’s Zayn, bro!” Zayn heard a voice he recognized clearly as Louis shout from the patio.

“Whatever, dude. I was close - I knew it was some shit like that that Li kept saying.” Andy muttered to Louis only to return his focus to Zayn, “Why don’t you come out here and join us? Hang out.”

“No, thanks.”

“Come on,” he slurred. “It’d be nice to see what Liam is so smitten about with you.”

          Turning to door, Liam quickly pushed his obviously intoxicated brother out of it, sliding the door closed and then he turned to lead Zayn through the crowds upstairs to his room.

“Sorry you didn’t have a good time,” Liam said as they ascended the stairs.

“Well, like I told you, parties aren’t really my thing.”

          Liam pulled a key out and fussed with the lock before pushing the door open and letting Zayn in. Walking into the room where he grabbed his books and backpack, Liam followed.

“You don’t have to leave, you know.”

“I do, actually.”

“Well, we could just stay up here and do work? Then we can finish my studying session that got cut short.”

“Liam,” Zayn began.

“Zayn, seriously, football means a lot to me and I don’t know what I’d do if I had to stop playing. Please, I need your help.”

“If football meant a lot to you, then you wouldn’t have bothered with that freaking party.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be a party!” Liam shouted. “But just…Zayn, come on, please. I know if you leave right now with the idea that I’m not serious about this, then you’re not going to help me ever again and I really, really want your help, _need_ your help.”

Zayn inwardly cringed at the idea of his next words, but he spoke them anyway, “One hour, Liam.”

“Okay, an hour is fine!” Liam quickly shut the door, locking it behind him. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” Zayn mumbled, settling down to the floor, the only spot in the room with ample space to work.

          It wasn’t long before he was joined by Liam on the floor along with his Calculus III textbook, and a notebook. Taking the notebook, Zayn looked over Liam’s work he had in it, frowning as he could see exactly where the trouble was with his failing grade: everywhere. Liam obviously didn’t have a clue.

          At the same time, Liam had busied himself with Zayn’s American National Government notebook, his own expression mirroring Zayn’s before he grabbed the textbook from Zayn’s bag and went about completing a homework assignment Zayn had started at some point and time, but had planned to finish that night. Zayn eyes followed Liam for a while as he read over the material and answered the question, catching glimpses of what he was scribbling across the paper, and well, it made more sense to Zayn than anything he himself would have come up with.

          This wasn’t what helping was supposed to be, but Zayn took a page from Liam’s book, flipping open the text to the assignment he’d been helping Liam with before the party started. He reached into his own bag for a pencil, and his calculator to check his work, and got started.

          This was going to be a bad idea. He knew that even as the time passed far beyond an hour and they finished the assignments. He knew that even as they stayed posted on the carpeted floor while Liam pointed out the figurines on the shelf and told their stories, and then shared his art with Zayn, unknown talent hidden in comics he’d begun work on but never completed. He knew that even as Liam’s idea of relaxation while doing these things came into play and the small nugget was being pushed into the bowl. He knew that even when he gave into Liam’s wishes yet again for that experience that usually came before most people’s senior year of college, but that was all new to Zayn. He knew that this was going to be a bad idea. This was all going to be a really bad idea.  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long to get up and is kind of bleh, but it's necessary filler.

          When Zayn hit the snooze button on his alarm clock the first time, he knew his night with Liam had been a bad idea. When he hit the button a second time, he knew staying there until well near 4:00 in the morning was a really bad idea. When he hit it the third time and realized he was not going to make it to his 8:00 class, he knew that night had been the worst idea he’d ever had.

          It’d been a bad idea, but Zayn would have been lying if he were to say that he regretted staying at that house even after the party ended and all the way until Andy came into the room demanding silence to get much-needed sleep. He and Liam had done nothing, but to Zayn, it was everything. Everything, after four school years with hardly a glance, words exchanged in numbers that Zayn could count on one hand, proximity to one another no more than several feet and never inches, it was everything and that night changed all of that. It was a bad idea, but it was still the best bad idea Zayn ever had.

          Posted at the back of the Literature floor of the library, Zayn didn’t lift his head from the table when he heard feet hitting the cork flooring and rustling nearby as Niall settled in across from him.

“You look worse than yesterday and I didn’t even bring you coffee today,” Niall murmured. “And I don’t know how I feel about this floor being our new study space. The other floor was better. This one smells old, like really ancient books.”

“ _Niall_ ,” Zayn groaned, his voice muffled by his sleeve. “Please not today. Let’s just study in quiet.”

“Damn, what’s gotten into you?”

“I’m just tired, and I have a headache out of this world.”

“What’d you do last night? I called you, like, twenty times and when you didn’t answer, I figured you were sleeping.”

          Soft footsteps coming to rest next to their table had Zayn finally looking up from the table and Niall turning around, both of their eyes falling on the brunette, clad in his trademark t-shirt and sweatpants, that’d made his way over to them. Niall’s eyes widened and he looked to Zayn, expecting his friend to be as stunned as him at the man in front of them, but nothing on Zayn’s face mirrored his expression.

“Thought I’d find you here, Malik,” Liam greeted Zayn with a smile, earning a stare in response.

Niall glanced between the two men before extending a hand to Liam, “Hi, I’m Niall. You’ve probably heard my name announced or have seen me on the field at our games and stuff…but, yes,” Niall let out a breath following his momentary ramble and smiled at Liam. “Hello.”

          Niall sunk back in the wooden chair when his anticipated handshake wasn’t met, and he looked to Zayn.

“Hi, Liam,” he finally spoke.

“Did you have fun last night?” Liam questioned to which Niall gasped, blue eyes widening in Zayn’s direction.

“Thanks to last night, I missed my class this morning.”

Liam shrugged, “So what? You got a little relaxation in.”

“So, I fucking missed my class, Liam.”

“You’ll have to excuse him; he’s kind of anal about school. He’s probably the only student on the entire campus with perfect attendance…well, used to be, but after today-” Niall added with a laugh.

“Shut up, Niall,” Zayn turned to Liam then with a smirk planted on his face. “How did things work out in class today? Did you understand the work a little better? Oh, that’s right. You didn’t do any of your homework; I did.”

“And how was that review at the end of your American National Government chapter? Was it easier for you?” Liam retorted. “Oh, that’s right. I did _that_ for you.”

“You’re as terrible at writing as you are at math, by the way. Do you know how much stuff I had to rewrite when I typed that assignment to make it grammatically correct and understandable?”

“But I bet you didn’t rewrite my answers.”

          Zayn fell silent as he stared at Liam, brown and hazel locked on one another as if that library was the O.K. Corral, and he was Clanton and Liam was Earp. And well, at least he could say that he’d learned that in American National Government, if he didn’t pick up on anything else.

“You guys…” Niall looked between them again before he looked at Zayn in disbelief. “Zayn? You?! Seriously, of all people, you? You cheat-”

Liam cut into Niall’s words, “You know, now that I think about it, I have seen you. You’re a cheerleader; your last name is like, Whore, right? Me and the guys always crack up when they announce the squad and your name comes up.”

          Zayn bit at his lower lip, but he couldn’t help the tiny smile he cracked in amusement. He couldn’t even drop it when Niall looked at him, his offense written all over his face. It was childish - beyond childish - and something Zayn would never have laughed at, but coming from Liam apparently made all the difference in the world.

“You know what?” Niall stood, gathering up his books. “I think I’ll leave you two be. Zayn, I trust that you’ll tell me about ‘last night’ later, yeah?”

          With a nod from Zayn in response, Niall was walking down the aisle to the elevators, and Liam settled into the chair Niall had just left vacant.

“What do you want, Liam?”

“You said you’d help me pass.”

“Well, I’ve seen your idea of helping, and I’m not going to keep doing your work for you,” Zayn said. “Not even if it means I don’t have to work so hard in my A.N.G. class. So, sorry, but last night won’t happen again.”

“I can promise you an A,” Liam murmured.

“No, Liam.”

“You’ll graduate with honors in the spring and that won’t be jeopardized by a class you don’t like or even need.”

“No.”

“ _Come on_ , Malik.”

“ _No_ , Payne.”

“I can guarantee you a paid internship at Pfizer when we graduate.”

          Zayn was left silent again as he looked over to the man sitting across from him.

“What?” he spoke eventually, unsure he’d heard him correctly or if he wanted to believe what he thought he’d heard.

“I can make sure that you have a job at Pfizer after graduation. I can’t promise it’ll be permanent, but it’ll be something while you’re going to graduate school like you said you want to do.”

“Do you even know what Pfizer is?”

“No, I’ve been planning to go into medicine since I came to this university, but I don’t have a goddamn clue what the hell Pfizer is.” Liam said sardonically, eyes slanted at Zayn. “Of course I know what it is and that’s why I know you want that job there. I’m not a complete idiot, you know.”

“But…how?”

“My dad has some really great friends. All I have to tell him is that you’re the one who made it possible for me to keep playing this year and he’ll make it happen for you,” Liam shrugged.

“Your dad isn’t going to do that.”

“Trust me, I know my dad. He wants me to be a doctor, but he wants me to play ball even more. If I don’t play this year, and fuck up any chances I might have to be drafted by a pro team, I may as well be fucking dead to him.”

          Zayn tugged his lower lip between his teeth, looking down to the book on the table in front of him. He despised that book, that class, that professor, but as much as he hated it, he still had to take it. He’d felt the guilt punching him in the face when he’d turned his homework in that day – Liam’s homework – and it had yet to wane. Could he honestly do that for the rest of the semester? What was to happen in the spring when he was slated to take another class he’d put off for years just because he knew it wasn’t his forte? Liam couldn’t possibly do his work for him then too.

          Still, there was no reason for Zayn not to believe Liam’s promises. His father was a powerful man. Not only in the Texas city where Liam hailed from, but in the state, and maybe even farther away than that. He had a lot of friends, a lot of pull and there was no doubt in Zayn’s mind that he probably had the connections to help Zayn obtain employment at one of the top companies in the country. There was no doubt in Zayn’s mind, either, that Liam wouldn’t make sure his father did just that.

“You’ll get an A, Zayn. That class was a fucking breeze for me.”

          Looking to him again, Zayn sighed and hesitated only momentarily before he begrudgingly reached a hand across the table to Liam who smiled and met his hand with his own, sealing their verbal agreement that Zayn still didn’t understand all of the terms of.

“So, we’re just going to do one another’s work?”

“That’s what I had in mind.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Well, you don’t want a C ‘marling’ your record, do you?”

“First of all, do you mean ‘marring’ and second, I would have been lucky to leave that class with a C.”

“Yeah, that,” Liam blushed. “And I guess that just means you’re lucky I’m here to make sure you pass.”

“I hope,” Zayn mumbled, reaching across the table for Liam’s Calculus book and his notebook.

“You will. This will work out great for both of us,” Liam said, his voice full of sincerity before he fell quiet only to speak after a brief moment of complete silence, “Don’t leave me hanging, Malik.”

          Looking up, Zayn noticed Liam had his fist raised, and with a roll of his eyes, he bumped his fist to Liam’s only to have it turn into some strange handshake that Liam tried to go slow with in the hopes that Zayn would catch onto.

“You’re so fucking uncoordinated, Malik.” Liam laughed, dropping his hands and grabbing Zayn’s book.

          Zayn dropped his focus back to Liam’s notebook, trying to determining what work Liam had due next, ignoring the chills that he felt run all throughout him from the way Liam’s hands had brushed against his arm.

________________________________________________________________________

“Good job, Mr. Malik. I’m glad to see you were finally able to do a homework assignment without e-mailing me with a million and one questions.”

          Zayn looked at the typed sheets of questions and answers his professor handed back to him, a bright red **96 A** circled in the top right-hand corner.

“Um, Dr. Clark,” Zayn began. “The report and presentation-”

“Argue your side, Mr. Malik. That’s all you have to do. Even if you don’t agree with it, argue your assigned side.”

“But how-”

“Argue your side. Whatever your side is, argue it. That's it. Convince me and your classmates.”

“All right,” Zayn sighed and stepped away to the door, exiting the lecture hall and walking down the hall out of the building.

          As soon as he stepped out, he spotted Liam and couldn't help the anxiousness he had to show Liam the assignment he'd done, knowing that if it hadn’t been for Liam, he wouldn’t have gotten that grade.

Bounding over to the spot on the quad where Liam sat in the grass, face buried in the iPhone he was texting on his friends sat around him, Zayn greeted him, “Hey, Liam!”

          Liam glanced up, as did his friends, and Zayn wished that he didn't let himself get so hurt by the expression that crossed Liam's face when he looked at him. He looked at Zayn with that crinkle in his forehead that he got whenever he was confused as if he didn't even know him and had never seen him, as if he and Zayn hadn’t been meeting at random times around campus for over a week. He looked at Zayn like he was a stranger, a stranger that he wasn’t interested in becoming acquainted with.

“Hi,” Liam replied. “You need something…or…?”

          Leave it to Louis to get the giggles started from the other people on the grass, adding to Zayn's embarrassment. Zayn felt like he'd been punched in the gut and wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball at that moment and disappear. Shaking his head in response to Liam, Zayn swallowed, trying not to let Liam's attitude get to him, and he stepped away to walk as fast as his feet could carry him in any direction but near them. He'd nearly reached the main library when he felt his phone buzzing against his side. Reaching into the pocket of the camouflage jacket he wore, Zayn let his eyes scan over the text on the screen.

_“meet me in lib in 10 wanna show u sumthin”_

          Zayn wanted to tell him no, text back in all caps his disdain for Liam, put his despise in words Liam could understand and tell him how much he wanted him to have a nice seat on the uprights of a goalpost, but he didn’t. He didn’t text back any of those things. Instead, he continued up the steps, into the building, and straight to the elevators, taking them to the 4th floor where he settled at the table for six near the shelves of Shakespearean literature and what Zayn was sure was every translation of _The Canterbury Tales_ known to man. It wasn’t long after Zayn had sat down and opened his Molecular Genetics textbook that he heard footsteps and caught a whiff of that cologne that’d become so familiar to him.

“Do you need something? Or?” Zayn looked up at him.

“I’m sorry. I just-”

“Don’t want anybody to know you’ve been hanging out with me, I get it.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just, like, all of my friends don’t know I’m failing and I don’t want them to. I don’t really wanna deal with them picking on me about it.”

“You didn’t have to tell them that I’m helping you pass.”

“Why else would I be friends with you if you weren’t helping me with school shit?”

That imaginary blow to his gut hit again and Zayn had to bite back his emotions, reminding himself of what lied ahead for him, reminding himself of that job that’d be the biggest and best thing to ever happen to him.

“Right,” Zayn said then held his homework assignment out to Liam. “You got an A.”

“Awesome,” Liam smiled as he took it, glancing over the paper before he reached into the cover of the Organic Chemistry book he held for a folded and wrinkled sheet of paper, handing it to Zayn. “So did you.”

“Great.” Zayn barely looked at the paper as Liam settled into his usual seat across from him. “Well, I have a project due at the end of the semester and so, I’m going to do the research for it. You do know how to write a paper, right?”

“Yeah, no sweat.” Liam shrugged, opening the Organic Chemistry book and pulling out a tiny pile of loose-leaf sheets he’d stuffed in the book to hold a page, continuing an assignment he’d started already.

“I don’t get it; you can do Organic Chemistry, but you act like you don’t know shit about anything involving logic when it comes to Calculus.”

“Oh,” Liam whispered then let out a soft chuckle, “Yeah.”

          He smiled, but Zayn didn’t see that crinkle at the corner of his eyes he knew Liam got when he really _smiled_ , that look of pure joy that spread all over his face when he smiled. Zayn watched as Liam went to work on his assignment, eyes fixated on that wrinkle in his forehead again and the furrowing of his brows. He reached across the table to grab the papers away from him, looking over the work Liam had done. Then Zayn understood why Liam couldn’t explain to him why he was facing being benched for failing only one class; it was because he didn’t want to admit that he wasn’t failing only one class. He had to be failing at least two, as far as Zayn could see.

“Li, you gotta take this bond and attach-” Zayn began, taking Liam’s pencil only to look up into the completely clueless face of the other man.

          Zayn scribbled the topic of his impending presentation onto another sheet of paper then took his laptop out of his backpack, opening it and turning it on before he slid both over to Liam.

“Find as much stuff as you can about domestic violence and battered women’s syndrome in this country. I have to argue that that shouldn’t be a defense against a crime, like murder.”

“That should be an easy argument.”

“What?”

“Arguing that women shouldn’t play the pity party after they’ve committed a crime should be easy.”

“Well, good thing I have you to do my work for me. This project should be a breeze,” Zayn forced a smile.

          Zayn reached for Liam’s Organic Chemistry book, brows fusing together in wonder when something fell out of the cover as he picked it up. Picking up the small plastic bag covered in the Batman symbol, it took Zayn a few moments of looking it over before he realized what it was.

“Liam!” Zayn whispered rather loudly, definitely getting the other man’s attention. “Please tell me you’re not…Liam, what is this?”

“Oh, I had that hidden.”

“Yeah, in this book that it just slid right out of.” Zayn picked up the book as if to emphasize that point. “If you’re going to carry weed around, you should try putting it in your fucking pocket or in your backpack.”

“Thanks for the advice, _Dad_ ,” Liam reached over to snatch the baggie away only to have Zayn pull his hand back before he could reach it.

“You’re worried about a few classes being a reason for you to miss out being drafted. Dumb shit like this will make sure you don’t get a degree either.”

“I’ll keep that in-”

          Their conversation had attracted the attention of the student assistant who looked less than pleased with the commotion she heard coming from their area of the floor.

“Everytime y’all are in here, all you do is disturb the rest of the students. I’m going to ask you for the last time to be quiet, and if you can’t do that then I’m going to ask you to leave.”

          Zayn nodded, quickly moving the baggie out of the blonde’s line of vision and she raised an eyebrow.

“No food or drinks allowed in the library.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll put it away.”

          Grabbing his backpack, Zayn stuffed the packaged gram into the front pocket of it, earning a glare from the library assistant as she walked away.

“Zayn, you don't-”

          Liam's whisper was the tipping point for the young woman because she was turning back to them, her scowl still present.

“Okay, that's it. Get out.”

“But-”

“You were warned. Get out of here.”

          While Zayn stood quietly and piled his books atop one another with as little noise as possible, Liam was clearly intent on doing just the opposite to further agitate the young woman, making his departure with his chair slamming against the table as he pushed it under, feet pounding against the floor as he stomped out and a smirk on his face. Zayn followed behind Liam, glancing at the girl apologetically on his way to the stairs.

          Almost as soon as they were outside, Zayn was hurrying to fish the baggie from his backpack, but Liam stopped him, motioning to the two campus security officers posted on their bikes in conversation at the bottom of the library's steps.

Liam shook his head in amusement when Zayn sighed, “You need to chill out, Malik. You're too 'head strung', acting like you've never smoked up before and I know you have; I was there.”

“High strung. The phrase is high strung, which I am not,” Zayn muttered as he slung his bag back onto his shoulder. “And that was a mistake.”

“It wasn't a mistake; it was fun and we should do it again sometime.”

“Let's not and say we did.”

“I like talking to you.”

“What?”

“I said that I like talking to you,” Liam repeated. “You're kinda weird, but you're pretty cool too.”

“You were high.”

“Not that high that I don't remember anything,” Liam said. “Come on, we can finish studying back at the house. This limited edition Hans Solo figure I'd been waiting for came in the mail yesterday; it looks so fucking awesome, wait ‘til you see it.”

          Liam didn’t give Zayn a chance to protest, but he wanted to because he knew going back to that house was as bad of an idea as it'd been the first time he was there. Still, Zayn went back. He had to stand on the library steps awkwardly for several minutes to give Liam a head start so they wouldn't appear together, but he went back there. He went back there and finished Liam's homework and saw his new Star Wars figurine and made use of the contents of that baggie he'd been hiding in the blue and grey Jansport that rarely left his side. It was a bad idea to go back because it only made him fall harder and harder for the boy who still barely knew he existed the way he wanted, the boy Zayn hated with a burning passion.

________________________________________________________________________

          Zayn shouldn't have shown up to the team's practice that day and he probably shouldn't have sat in the section of the bleachers that'd been unofficially reserved for the girlfriends of the team members who rarely missed a game or a practice. He shouldn’t have been there and he knew it, but Liam was too absent-minded to keep up with his own work and unaware of an assignment due in his 4:00 class, so there was Zayn to bring it to him.

          Zayn glanced over his shoulders, feeling the eyes of the women not far away practically boring holes into his back. He looked up and out to the grassy rectangle, well aware of the expressions and glances he was getting from the men on the field who'd noticed him, especially Liam, who may have been the only one to actually make out who he was from the distance. When their coach called for a break, Zayn stood, edging his way over to the railing. He could see the bit of fury in Liam's eyes as he looked at him and he'd barely taken two steps before Zayn called out to Harry, causing him to pause.

“Hey, Zayn,” Harry smiled, stepping over to where he stood. “What are you doing here?”

“Can you get this to Liam for me?”

          Zayn sifted through his bag for the stapled lined sheets of work covered in scientific formulas that he’d tried his hardest to write out in Liam’s handwriting, handing them over to Harry. Glancing at the papers, Harry’s brows furrowed and he looked up to Zayn with suspicion written over his face.

“He left it at the library.”

“Okay…” Harry sighed. “Is that it?”

“Tell him to stop fucking looking at me like that or he’ll give himself away.”

Harry glanced behind him to the bench where Liam was gawking at him and Zayn, and chuckled, “Will do.” Harry stepped away only to turn to Zayn, “You know, he doesn’t dot his I’s like this. He makes these annoying little bubbles for dots. Just thought you’d like to know.”

“Harry, I…we-”

“I don’t know anything about anything; I was just saying,” Harry shook his head with a small smile, turning away to head back to the bench.

________________________________________________________________________

          Zayn stepped onto the pathway leading from the science building where most of his classes were located only to feel a rough nudge to his shoulder that sent him into the building’s brick side. He reached a hand up with a groan to stop his backpack strap from falling off and looked out the corner of his eye when he heard a soft rustle against his right ear. Grabbing at the paper carelessly stuck into the strap, Zayn pulled it out entirely and glanced around, spotting what was unmistakably the backs of Louis and Andy walking in the opposite direction. The neon flyer he unfolded was for a black light graffiti party at the fraternity house that night with a note from Liam at the bottom below where he’d circled the notice to wear white.

_“tell Whore he’s invited too - he’s gotta pay the cover but your good cuz your my guest! black lights, booze and bowls so you know it’s goin be fun as fuck! i can’t wait to see ya there! - Li”_

          It was a Friday night and Zayn didn’t have any plans; he never had any plans unless they were with Niall, but he wasn’t going to that party. He vowed that he wasn’t going to that party during his walk to the bus stop, the entire ride home, the walk to the back of his apartment complex and up the stairs. He vowed he wasn’t going to that party when he walked into his bedroom, turned on his computer, logged into Skype and started a conversation with Niall. He vowed he wasn’t going to that party when he stepped in front of the laptop’s tiny camera to greet the blond.

“Sup, dude…” Zayn sighed. “So…you have a white shirt and nothing to do tonight, right?”  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains the use of a homophobic slur, so if that is triggering for you, I suggest not reading.

“Zayn, you sure about this?” Niall questioned, trudging along behind Zayn up the steps of the house.

          Zayn didn’t respond, but no, he wasn't sure about this. He wasn't sure about anything that night: not his khakis pants and white t-shirt, not the brushed down look he'd styled his hair into, not the fact that he'd gone over in his head several times different things he considered writing on Liam's attire. As he and Niall slipped through the wooden door and into the darkened house crowded wall-to-wall with coeds, he wasn't even sure he should be there.

“Zayn,” Niall took a glance around then turned to Zayn, “Are you sure you wanna be here?”

“Niall,” Zayn sighed, turning to glance at him.

“Dude, I'm just looking out for you. Wouldn't want you to be catching a panic attack or anything.”

“When have you ever seen me catch a panic attack?”

“When we got midterm grades last spring and you had a B in a course.”

Zayn rolled his eyes, “Whatever.” His eyes scanned the room, looking for the man he was sure he wouldn't find easily in the packed room. “I'll be okay.”

Niall smirked, “You mean that you'll be okay as soon as you find Liam.”

          Zayn couldn't help but to roll his eyes again and was on the edge of a smart aleck remark to Niall before he spotted a familiar doe-eyed brunette standing near the kitchen doorway.

“Niall, look. Alison's here,” Zayn motioned and Niall's eyes shot in her direction before he was scurrying away from Zayn with a hand motion to signal a prompt return that Zayn didn't even hold him to.

          Neon lights bounced and reflected off of every surface of the house's downstairs, cramped bodies made heat radiate throughout the rooms and made the running a/c unit futile, raucous conversations and laughter between friends resounded over rap and rock baselines, clear plastic cups filled with various colors were scattered throughout the room and an unmistakable haze floated around the den at the end of the main hall. Zayn wasn't sure why that was the direction he went in, but he followed the smoke until he reached the room that’d had its lighting replaced with ultraviolent much like the rest of the common rooms.

          The darkness of the room didn’t allow Zayn to see a whole lot from a distance, but he could make out a few of the people in it and a small voice inside of him told him what he knew he needed to do. _Turn around. Don’t go in that room. Don’t go in. Don’t go in._ If that fraternity house were a club, that room would have definitely been the V.I.P. area, filled with social gods and goddesses that held the envy of everyone outside of that door, Zayn included. If that house were a club, that room would have been a V.I.P. area that Liam Payne would have still been at the center of just as he was that night. Zayn wasn’t even in the room and Liam still had his full attention.

“Zayn!”

          His attention was broken with the sudden shouting of his name as an arm slung around his shoulders and pulled him into the room. Looking over, he got a glimpse of dark brown curls and knew exactly whose head they lied on. Of course Harry greeted him first. Harry always noticed him and greeted him first. The hug he found himself on the receiving end of, though, was definitely not something Zayn was used to from him. Then again, Zayn couldn't say he was used to an intoxicated Harry, and Harry was definitely under the influence of something.

“How are ya, dude? You look awesome!” Harry slurred, his Southern Californian accent coming out then more than Zayn could ever say it had before. “Oh, I like the change in the hair.”

“Thank you.”

          Zayn was left unable to say much more than that before Liam was coming over to him and shoving Harry away so that he could drape an arm across Zayn’s shoulders in the same fashion the other man had.

“I didn’t know for sure if you’d come or not,” Liam spoke as he practically dragged Zayn along to a table against the back wall, one-fourth of it littered with baskets of neon pens and markers with the rest of it covered entirely with alcohol.

          Zayn took another glance around the room, and couldn’t help but to think that maybe this area was exclusive only to the people in it and those they invited in. That thought was cemented when the student government association’s vice-president entered the room, both her sorority sister and Niall trailing along behind her, but while Alison and Nevin earned a pass into the room without anyone so much as glancing at them, there was someone stopping Niall from following.

“So, this is you guys’ own little private area, huh?” Zayn muttered, hearing Liam rustling behind him briefly before he felt a dull press against his shoulder blade.

“Yeah, me and some of the other guys kind of just wanted a space to chill with our closer friends.”

          Zayn peeked behind himself and over his shoulder in an effort to see what Liam was marking there on his shirt, but all he caught sight of were Liam’s eyes when he glanced up at Zayn. Zayn quickly looked away and Liam resumed his writing, stopping again only to sigh with a shout of Andy’s name and a motion to the doorway. Zayn watched as Andy looked at the doorway then back to Liam and it seemed the two of them held some sort of silent communication for a extended period of time which resulted in an exasperated Andy yelling at Niall.

“Say you! Zach’s blond friend, come in!” Niall didn’t move, and that prompted Andy to give it another shot. “I’m talking to you! Liam says you can come in!”

“His name is Niall, and his friend’s name is Zayn,” Harry glared at Andy. “That’s why he’s not moving, you dick. Niall, you can come in, dude. Here, let me get you a marker.”

          Zayn was always perplexed when he saw Harry amongst the crowd he’d settled in with because he seemed so out of place, and that moment was no different as he watched the way Harry brought Niall over to the table where Liam was still switching through the markers on the table to continue his mystery handiwork on Zayn’s back, and Harry gave Niall a beer and a marker then grabbed one of his own to write on the front of Niall’s shirt.

Niall’s brows furrowed as he read over the words on his stomach in glowing red, “Wildcats, getcha head in the game?” Looking to Harry, he smiled, “Please tell me that is not a _High School Musical_ quote?”

Harry smiled and Liam replied for him, “Harry likes to write quotes from his favorite movies on people.”

“Well, that’s cool because _High School Musical_ is one of my favorite movies too.”

“Really?! Here, write a quote from one of your other favorites and I’ll try to guess it.”

          Taking Harry’s extended arm into his hand, Niall used his other hand to write across the sleeve of his shirt and Harry’s lips curved into a grin again as he read it then slung that arm around Niall and tugged him away from the table.

“I think we’re going to be good friends. _Napoleon Dynamite_ is the fucking best.”

“Am I ever going to see what you’re putting on _me_?” Zayn teased, trying to peek at Liam again.

“Yeah, just…one…second…all right, done.”

          Liam pulled away and Zayn was still left baffled by what was on his shirt because he couldn’t see, so Liam tugged him out to the hall and to the mirror there, allowing Zayn to see a caricature-like drawing of what Zayn took a moment to realize was himself scribbled on his shoulder blade, penned with Liam’s signature at the bottom.

“Now I feel bad because I can’t draw for shit and I don’t know what I can put on you.”

          Still, Zayn reached for the marker in Liam’s hand and pressed it to an empty spot on his shirt, furiously writing a series of mathematical equations and drawing a hard laugh out of Liam when he took notice of it.

“Think I can wear this to class during a test and get away with it?”

Zayn shrugged in amusement, “Tell your professor it’s the latest trend in Milan.”

          Liam’s laugh fell until he was merely smiling, smiling and staring down at Zayn in the dim hallway. Then his smile fell as he looked over Zayn’s face, and Zayn was sure he was about to say something, but he didn’t get that opportunity when a smaller man tackled straight into his side and dragged him back into the room. Zayn stood in the hallway awkwardly for a moment, watching Louis, every exposed piece of skin was covered in neon, stand on his tiptoes as he leaned into Liam to whisper in his ear before they went over to a group of their friends.

          Zayn stood outside the room he’d been granted access into just watching the people crammed into it. Liam had found his way back to the people that probably wouldn’t let Zayn join them on the front line during a war let alone socialize with them at a party. Niall had even settled into a space in the corner with Harry and the two women he’d tried to follow into the room earlier in the night. Zayn turned to leave, but didn’t make it far before a familiar set of hands were pressing against his wrist and tugging on it.

“Where you going?” he asked in that Texan drawl Zayn never grew tired of hearing.

          Liam let go of Zayn’s wrist, but motioned for him to follow back into the room and Zayn did, settling right at Liam’s side as he moved about the room. And at Liam’s side was where Zayn stayed for most of the night, meeting this friend and brother and that teammate, and this soror and that club president. At Liam’s side was where Zayn stayed posted for most of the night, enjoying whatever vice Liam tossed his way and mingling with people who might not remember him in a week, but who took the time to talk to him then and leave impressions of themselves on his clothes in florescent ink.

          It was all going well until Liam returned from the restroom at a later point in the night and moved back to his spot near Zayn, face contorting in a strange upset as he grabbed the dark-haired man’s bicep to pull him out of the den and up the stairs to his bedroom where he shut and locked the door behind them.

“Liam, what are you doing?”

“Zayn, take your shirt off.”

With widened eyes and furrowed eyebrows, Zayn exclaimed, “What?!”

“Take off your shirt,” Liam repeated, reaching out to tug on Zayn’s t-shirt.

“Why would I take off my shirt? This is part of my outfit.”

“Because you’ve got…something, like, right – just take off the shirt, Zayn, please.”

“Isn’t that the whole idea of this stupid party? For people to ruin perfectly good clothes by doodling all over them?”

“Zayn…please. I have something else you can wear,” Liam murmured. “Just trust me and take it off.”

“What’s wrong with my shirt?”

          Zayn’s voice fell as it started to dawn on him that maybe there was something there that shouldn’t have been, something that clearly embarrassed Liam. Stepping away from the other man, Zayn went straight to the mirror on Liam’s side of the room. He stared at his reflection, eyes scanning over the front of the t-shirt which still held several blank spaces. Turning a bit to see as much of his back as he could, it was obvious the same couldn’t be said for that area.

“You don’t need to look at it, just take it off. I’ll give you a new one,” Liam offered, trying to make Zayn look away from the mirror by turning him away from it.

          Zayn didn’t need to look anymore, though. Those two first letters spelt out in bright neon against the white fabric told him everything. He’d only seen **F A** , but that was all he needed to see to get the gist of what the rest of it said. It wasn’t embarrassing to Liam; it was something meant to embarrass him, and as Zayn thought about everyone who’d seen it since Andy had scrawled the word across his back, it did just that. There was no doubt that Andy had written it; Zayn could remember when he’d written across his back and he knew everyone in that room had likely seen it several times over. They’d seen it and said nothing.

“Zayn, I’m so sorry,” Liam sighed. “Here, you can wear this.” Liam retrieved a white t-shirt that appeared to be brand new from his dresser drawer, saying, “I’ll even get you started.”

          Reaching into his back pocket, Liam pulled out pens in colors of electric blue and orange, and used them to draw out two big numbers that covered the entire front of the shirt only to flip it over and write those same numbers on the back before capping the blue pen. Switching over to the orange, he wrote **MALIK** above the numbers, and went about adding other designs on the sleeves of the shirt. It was only then that Zayn realized Liam was trying to create a football jersey.

          Zayn watched him even though he knew he should have been trying to stop Liam. He had no intentions on staying at that party now. Not after that. He especially wasn’t sticking around that party to walk around in one of Liam’s t-shirts that was a bit too big for him and was adorned with…Liam’s number.

“Liam, I can’t wear that.”

“It’s cool, Zayn. It’s just a t-shirt, I have others.”

“Really, Liam? After your friends just wrote ‘fag’ on my back, do you think no one is going to start thinking the same of you if you write your number all over my shirt? Which, by the way, is actually your shirt. Come on, you're not _that_ stupid.”

          Stepping back a bit, Liam looked over the shirt and it was clear that it dawned on him right then what he’d written.

“I guess I’m just used to that number,” Liam chucked nervously. “How did you know that was my number, anyway? You hate football.”

Zayn shrugged, “I guess I’m used to seeing it too. It’s everywhere, superstar.”

          Liam blushed with a small smile at Zayn’s teasing then held the t-shirt out to him, “And I guess it’ll be on you now.”

“Liam, no,” Zayn pushed his hand away. “Seriously, this shit is nothing new for me. It’s nothing I’ve never been called before. Thanks for the shirt, but I’m just going to head home.”

“No,” Liam shook his head forcefully.

“I’m sorry?”

“No, you’re not leaving,” he insisted. “I want you to stay. You’re my friend and I want you here and I want you to put this shirt on…please? I’ll even change the number.”

          Liam set the shirt down to quickly change one of the numbers to something else as best as he could before he held the article of clothing out to Zayn again, and Zayn hesitated only for a moment that time before he was tugging at the bottom of the shirt he wore to lift it up and over his head, tossing it aside. Zayn reached out for the shirt in Liam’s hands only to catch Liam’s eyes trailing over his body the same way Liam had looked at him in the downstairs hallway that night. Caught, Liam quickly refocused his attention elsewhere.

“Done,” Zayn spoke up after a moment.

“You good?” Liam turned back to him and questioned, flashing a smile to which Zayn nodded.

          Liam let his fingers tangle in Zayn’s for only a short while as he led him out of the room, letting his hand go as soon as they were in the hallway where people were poised along the walls and outside the rooms, lingering around the stairs, wherever they could fit in. Liam’s fingers and Zayn’s had tangled for only a short while, but Zayn still felt his heart skip several beats because of it.

________________________________________________________________________

“…we got to talking and we found out that we’re both from around L.A. How fucking cool is that? But anyway, we’re all going to hang out again tomorrow.”

          Zayn couldn’t focus on much of what Niall was saying to him there in the McDonald’s they’d walked to for lunch that day. His mind was still on the night before. His mind had never drifted away from his thoughts of the way Liam looked at him, the way Liam’s hands touched him, the way Liam kept him close to him the entire night, the way Liam didn’t seem ashamed of their growing friendship or of him.

“Zayn, are you listening to me?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, I heard you. You and Alison are both from L.A. That’s cool.”

“No, me and Harry are both L.A. Alison’s from up North.” Niall’s voice dropped a bit. “You weren’t listening to me. I just told I have a double date to go on and you weren’t even listening to me.” Niall sighed then patted himself on the back as he beamed mockingly, “Congratulations, Niall! I’m happy for you, man! Here’s to hoping you get laid tomorrow night!”

“I’m sorry, Niall. I really am happy for you and I hope things work out on your date,” Zayn spoke, his voice earnest even though it was clear his mind wasn’t entirely with just Niall.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just tired, I guess, and I should probably go do more research for this project,” Zayn then stood and slung his backpack across his shoulder before picking up his tray littered with a discarded McNugget box and what was once a large carton of fries.

“Oh, the battered women’s one. How’s that going? You doing okay?”

Zayn shrugged, “I can’t really make that argument justly, so I’ve been mostly letting Liam handle it. His opinions fit right in with the assignment.”

“How’s _that_ going?”

Again, Zayn shrugged, “He’s clueless.”

          Niall nodded in understanding and Zayn turned and left him with a wave that Niall returned. Zayn didn’t have a very long walk back to campus, but the last thing he wanted was to be left alone with his thoughts, so he popped his earbuds in to listen to his iPod. Two and a half songs in, he was walking up the steps of the library, softly singing to himself. Zayn didn’t stop listening, though, nor did he stop singing even when he was on his usual floor. His music provided a distraction from everything as he got to work on his research, distracting him so much that he didn’t even notice when Liam came over to him.

          As he’d expected, Liam found Zayn tucked away at his favorite table in the library that afternoon, his eyes fixated on the laptop in the screen in front of him as he clicked around then shifted his focus to a book at his side then back to the computer again. The two of them hadn’t made plans to study, so Liam’s presence would be a surprise, and as he snuck up alongside him and dangled the loose leaf sheet of paper in front of Zayn’s laptop, the surprise was evident all over Zayn’s face when he yanked his earbuds out then turned to face him.

“What is that?”

“We had a quiz the other morning and got them back today,” Liam stated, settling into the seat next to Zayn.

          Hazel eyes skimmed across the sheet of paper, and especially over the marking in deep black ink at the top of the page, obviously unable to believe what it said.

“But that’s an 82! Liam, you made a C! And you did it all by yourself! You made a C!”

“Well, not necessarily by myself,” Liam smiled.

“No, no. This was all you,” Zayn beamed, feeling an overwhelming sense of pride in the other man.

          That overwhelming sense of pride was no doubt what fueled him to reach over and let his fingers tangle into the material of Liam’s jacket as he pulled the athlete in close to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Almost as soon as his lips connected with Liam’s skin, though, Zayn was pulling back, cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. His horrified expression only grew as he and Liam’s gazes connected, and Liam looked less than thrilled.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, Liam.”

“No, don’t be sorry. It’s just…” Liam’s brows furrowed in a manner that seemed as if he couldn’t figure out his next words, but yet, he found them. “Why’d you pull away?”

It was Zayn’s turn to mirror Liam’s facial expression as he questioned, “What do you mean why? Why wouldn’t I if I was making you uncomfortable?”

“I never said I was uncomfortable.”

          Zayn was baffled, and he and Liam’s encounter had quickly gone from excitement to awkward in .03 seconds, leaving him to silently curse at himself for being the cause of that. Liam, however, was completely at ease. The football star saw the opportunity there in that moment and took it, startling Zayn when he edged in close to press his lips to his.

          It was soft. It was steady. It was deliberate. It bore no hesitation. It set every sense of Zayn’s on fire and stilled his body into a state of stunned bliss that left him unable to react immediately. It was only a moment before his brain sent responses to his nervous system to what was happening outside his body, and he let his lips fall into the motions with Liam’s. Then, Liam pulled away with the sound of footsteps rows over. Biting his lower lip between his teeth, Liam kept his focus on Zayn, chocolate brown eyes locked straight on him in apparent thought.

“What?” Zayn finally whispered.

Liam shook his head, breaking their gaze. “Nothing, it’s…nothing,” Liam sighed, standing. “I have a class, so I need to get going. I just wanted to come see if you were here to show you that. See you later, Malik.”

Watching him go, Zayn sat, completely floored at Liam’s abrupt departure and replied to no one at all, “Oh…okay.”

          His phone buzzing brought him back to reality and he looked at it, seeing a text from Liam: _sry_. Zayn rolled his eyes and set the phone down only to have it buzz again. He didn’t really want to read the next message, but he lifted the phone and did. _the house at 8? plz?_. No. The answer was no. It was a big, fat no and that was why Zayn set the phone aside and resumed his research. It was a no until he showed up on the frat house doorstep later that night without a prior word to Liam.

________________________________________________________________________

“No, Zayn, it’s actually nothing like soccer.”

          It was dark out, but with the moonlight and the back porch light illuminating the quiet patio space around them, Zayn could see Liam’s face clearly and he could see that eye roll he made.

“Well, did you know that in other countries they call soccer ‘football’?” Zayn questioned with mouth full as he stuffed another broken piece of cheese-only pie into his mouth.

“Yes,” Liam laughed, biting from his own slice. “Contrary to your belief, I’m not a complete idiot.”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, you do, but you know, there are actually some things I could teach you,” Liam said.

“Oh, really?”

“You don’t know shit about sports, Zayn. I could teach you a thing or two, so you’ll actually know what’s going on when you sit in the stands.”

Zayn’s face fell as he looked to Liam, “How…”

“I’ve seen you a couple of times. I thought you liked football until you started helping me and you called a kickoff a punt. Like, how can you even get that confused? The type of move is in the name, I don’t get it.”

“Okay, I get it.”

“Here, come on.”

          Liam stood, setting aside the plate with his pepperoni and green pepper pizza, and he went to the other side of the patio to retrieve a football.

“Come on,” he repeated. “Get up. Let’s play.”

          Zayn didn’t want to play football or learn football or do anything except eat his pizza, but he eventually set his plate down and pulled himself up from the patio chair to go over to Liam where he held his hands out.

“Are you going to make the first throw?”

“Okay,” Zayn nodded.

          He ignored the amused look on Liam’s face when he handed Zayn the ball then moved to the opposite side of the yard. Zayn waited until Liam was far enough before he held the ball tight in his hand, set his eyes on his target, drew his arm back and flung it as hard as he could across the open space.

“ _OUCH_!”

          Zayn stood smirking on the other end of the grass, prepared to go back to his pizza, but his smile faded when Liam didn’t get up right away. Zayn slowly trekked over to where the other man lay with his hand cupping his crotch, groaning and writhing as he gradually pulled himself up from the ground. Zayn helped Liam to sit then sat next to him in the grass.

“Sorry…” Zayn spoke up after a brief bit of silence between them.

“ **ZAYN, YOU TOSSED A FUCKING FOOTBALL INTO MY FUCKING BALLS** ,” Liam fumed. “That shit calls for more than a fucking sorry.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you that bad,” Zayn frowned. “I can try to make it feel better, though.”

          When his hand reached out for Liam’s shorts, Zayn garnered a response from him in the form of Liam’s hand gripping his wrist.

“Touch my dick and I’ll stomp you.”

“But I’m going to make it better, come on,” Zayn grinned teasingly, extending his other hand.

Liam grabbed that wrist as well, the laughter Zayn had been hoping for coming out then, “I’m not kidding, Malik.”

          Zayn pulled his bands back then, resting them in his lap. He looked to Liam briefly, eyes trailing over the birthmark against his neck, the beauty marks lining his cheek and the dimple that appeared there on occasion. His eyes fell upon Liam’s lips, soft and full and pink lips that he’d felt the touch and had the taste of, that he wanted the touch and taste of again.

“Liam,” Zayn whispered, closing the small gap between them that remained. “I’m really sorry.”

“Okay, apology accepted, I guess.”

          Liam looked as if he was on the edge of inching away, but Zayn wasn’t going to give him that chance.

“Really sorry.” Zayn shifted forward so that he and Liam’s lips were only millimeters apart, speaking in a hushed tone as he said, “Don’t run this time. Please don’t run.”

          But Liam didn’t run. He let a hand slip around Zayn’s middle and pulled him to him once their lips connected, letting their bodies press just as well. He didn’t run even when Zayn pushed his tongue out for that little bit more he wanted from him. He just reciprocated his actions, gripping at Zayn’s side almost possessively to keep him held to him. It wasn’t necessary, though, because just as Liam wasn’t running, neither was Zayn. They sat there in the grass, the moonlight playing on their bodies and the greenery that surrounded them, for what seemed like eons before Zayn was pulling back, his eyes settled straight on Liam’s.

“I’m sorry,” Liam said that time.

“Why are you sorry?” he whispered.

“Because of the way I left earlier,” Liam said. “It’s just that I don’t know what hit me then. It was like I just _had_ to do it; I had to kiss you then and I don’t know why. I don’t know where my mind has been going lately, but it’s been all over the place. I’ve been trying to ignore all of these feelings and thoughts, but I can’t and I keep telling myself that they’ll all pass and they don’t. Then I see you, and my heart beats a mile a minute and all those feelings just come crashing back and they just keep growing everytime you smile or you laugh because you’re fucking attractive as hell, or everytime I hear you sing because you’ve got this amazing voice or everytime you get frustrated at me when I don’t understand what you’re saying because you go through fifty different emotions at once and they always end with you touching me and talking to me like I’ll break if you raise your voice again and I just…they don’t go away, Zayn. They multiply and I don’t know why.”

          Zayn sat in complete silence after Liam’s ramble, unable to say a word or move or do anything at all, really. It was everything he’d ever wanted to hear from him, but nothing he’d ever expected.

“I shouldn’t feel like this. I can’t feel like this.”

“Why?” Zayn questioned with furrowed brows.

“I can’t, Zayn. This is so wrong, and I-”

“There’s nothing wrong about feeling something for another human being.”

“But you’re-”

“I’m Zayn Malik. I’m a 21-year-old senior Biochemisty and Genetics major from Florida who likes comic books and animals and sci-fi and theme parks and if this science shit fails, I’m going home and get a job at Disney World. That’s who I am…and I, Zayn Malik, really like you and I don’t see anything wrong with that.” Zayn reached for Liam’s hand, lacing their fingers and feeling that familiar spark that only shot throughout his body with Liam’s touch. “I don’t know why you feel the way you do, but I know that it isn’t wrong.”

Liam looked to their entwined hands and gave a gentle squeeze, “You won’t fail at your science shit because you’re smart. You’re smart and funny and you have great tastes in everything, and I, Liam Payne, really like you too.”

          Zayn looked at him expectantly, but didn’t hear those next words he was hoping for. Pulling his hand from Liam’s, Zayn placed it back in his lap awkwardly.

“Will you help me?” Liam asked.

“Help you what?”

“Figure out why I feel this way. You can help me and I know you can’t be wrong because you never are.”

          The corners of Zayn’s lips curled into a small smile and so did Liam’s before he held his hand out to Zayn, earning a handshake in response from the dark-haired boy and sealing their agreement in the same manner they had before. Again, with no terms discussed.

________________________________________________________________________

          The terms weren’t discussed, but they fell into developing them over time. Tucked away at the back of their library floor, when Andy wasn’t present in Liam’s room, in quiet places away from campus that Liam drove them to and in the privacy of Zayn’s home, they developed them as they explored the new found dynamic they shared that no one else but them knew of. Well, maybe the elderly woman Zayn resided with, but even she believed them to be good friends and she never missed a beat in her grandson’s life.

          Stepping into the living room of Zayn’s tiny apartment, Liam apparently couldn’t resist playfully tripping Zayn, sending him into the sofa with a thud.

“Zayn, is that you?” came a voice down the hall.

“Yeah, it’s me!” Zayn bit back his laughter as he reached over to shove Liam in retaliation.

“Is your friend with you? I cooked dinner, if you two want to eat something.”

“Okay, thanks!”

“Hi, Mrs. Malik!” Liam greeted down the short hall.

“Hello, Liam!” she shouted back then added an afterthought, “Zaynie, you know what today is, right?”

“I remember...”

          Liam glanced over at Zayn, seeing the sort of sad look that crossed his face for a split second before he was looking to Liam and grinning as he pulled him down the hall to his bedroom. As soon as they were in the room, Liam’s lips were on Zayn’s in a quick kiss that Zayn pulled out of to put his books and bag down then grabbed his laptop to put a movie in, following through with what they’d planned for the late afternoon.

“What’s today?” Liam asked, tossing his own backpack to the floor and joining Zayn on the bed.

“Huh?”

“Your grandma mentioned something about today…I was just curious.”

“Oh,” Zayn shrugged his shoulders. “It’s nothing.”

          Liam didn’t push Zayn on it, but he’d come to realize that whenever Zayn said it was nothing, it was always something. Liam relaxed against Zayn’s headboard next to him, slipping an arm around his waist to pull him in close, hoping his touch would provide some kind of comfort.

          As the movie went on, Liam couldn’t help but to notice the way Zayn kept glancing to his phone, almost nervously. Reaching across him, Liam grabbed the phone from the bed and took it away.

“Chill and focus on the movie.”

“No, Liam,” Zayn grabbed at the phone. “I’m waiting on a call.”

“But we’re watching a movie. That can wait,” Liam jerked it out of his grasp.

“It can’t.”

          Zayn stretched his body over Liam’s as he pulled at Liam’s limbs in an effort to take the phone away, Liam holding it just out of his reach above their heads.

“Of course it can wait until we’re done.”

“Really, it can’t. Liam, seriously, it’s important.”

          Zayn tried to wrestle his phone away from the other man, but the training he did on a regular basis in comparison to the nothing Zayn did gave him an advantage. So, as they’d gotten to the point of dangling over the side of the bed, Zayn played dirty.

“Nah uh, Zayn! That shit’s not cool!”

          In a fit of giggles, Liam let the phone go in exchange for shielding his stomach and sides from Zayn’s hands and fingers tickling him again. Zayn picked up his phone and set it back to his side with a smirk on his face while Liam situated himself into his position on the bed again.

“Who are you waiting on a call from like that anyway?” Liam asked, and the tone in his voice spoke volumes to Zayn that he hadn’t heard before: Liam was jealous.

Zayn shook his head, “It’s not a guy.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Yeah, but that’s what you were thinking. Don’t worry; it’s just someone I don’t get to talk to as often as I’d like.”

          Liam didn’t deny that’d been his thought and he didn’t ask about Zayn’s anticipated caller again. Instead, he just turned to the laptop and let his eyes fall back to the movie they’d been watching. Zayn curled into Liam’s side with a kiss to his cheek then pressed his head to Liam’s shoulder, earning a kiss to the forehead from him.

          Twenty minutes back into watching a teenage mutant sling around New York City, Zayn was standing and heading down the hall to the bathroom. It was only then, during his absence, that his phone rang. Liam glanced over to the phone as it lit up with a series of numbers across the screen then looked down the hall, but saw no sign of Zayn. With a sigh, Liam picked up the phone and pressed the green answer button.

“Hel-” Liam began, but stopped when an automated voice spoke.

“Hello. This is a collect call from an inmate in the Florida state prison system. If you choose to receive this call, please press 1. If you wish to no longer…”

          Liam could feel a lump forming in his throat at the message and he was confused about what he should do. Surely, this couldn’t have been the call Zayn had been waiting for. At the same time, he couldn’t recall seeing Zayn receive many calls from people and so, this probably was it. With a heavy sense of hesitation, Liam pressed the button to bring out the phone keyboard and pressed the number 1. There was a beep and a brief silence before a click and then a woman’s soft, light voice.

“Hello? Z?”

Liam sat quiet for a moment before he stammered out, “Uh n-no. This is Liam, his friend. Zayn stepped away to the bathroom for a second. He’ll be right out.”

“His…friend?”

          Liam couldn’t respond that time nor could he react to the heavy thumps against the floor as Zayn bounded back into the room and snatched the phone away.

“Hello?” he answered quickly, pressing the phone to his ear before a smile that was bigger than any smile Liam had ever seen from him formed on his face. “Hi. Happy birthday, Mom.”  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains the use of homophobic slurs and mentions of domestic violence, so if either of these things are triggering for you, please reconsider reading this chapter.

          Liam didn’t pry, didn’t make mention of the phone call between Zayn and his mother. Liam didn’t question it and Zayn didn’t provide an answer to explain it all, but he couldn't stop thinking about what he’d overheard some nights before: the birthday wishings, confirmation if she’d received his present, urgings for Zayn to do his very best with inquiries about his wellbeing, exchanged words of adoration all in that ten minute phone conversation; a ten minute conversation that Liam couldn't stop trying to find the words to approach Zayn about. It was getting to Liam, and what was getting to him most of all was the sheer fact that Zayn said nothing about it.

          Still, Liam didn’t ask. It wasn’t his place, so he sat back and tried to pretend as if he’d heard nothing even though the curiosity was killing him. That part came easy, though, since it hadn’t even come up again.

“This is bullshit.”

Zayn didn’t let his focus swing from the laptop in front of him as he motioned across their table to Liam, “Hmm?”

“Check this out,” Liam spoke, eyes fixated on his own laptop in front of him. “This woman killed her husband while he was bound and gagged – something they did when they had sex, you know – and she claims it was self defense because she was scared for her life and the lives of her children.”

“Maybe she was,” Zayn shrugged, his eyes falling on Liam then.

“How could she be scared when he’s lying there unable to move or do anything to her at all?”

“Well, there may have not been any immediate danger, but he could have very well been a threat to her and their children.”

“Well, she should have left,” Liam said. “When he was tied up, she should have gotten her shit, packed up and left. Her defense was bullshit and that manslaughter charge was way too fucking good for her.”

“It’s not always that easy to just leave, Liam.” Zayn looked back to his computer.

Liam rolled his eyes with a shake of his head, “These women could have left and started lives of their own where they weren’t sitting around being supported by their husbands, but instead, they all made the decision to kill them. They waited for the opportune moment and then they killed them when they could have been using that time and planning to get the hell out of there.”

          As Liam’s rant came to a close, Zayn slammed his laptop shut and stormed away from the table, heading in the direction of a stack of books he had no need for, but he occupied his time with anyway as if they would present anything the least bit useful on his project’s subject area and give him the answer to the mysteries of life to boot.

          He was fuming, boiling on the inside with a fiery rage he hadn’t possessed since that day. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt since a day ten years before in a Florida courtroom as his 11-year-old brain tried to make sense of the scene of loud murmurs, sobs and a judge battling a room of people to bring down the sudden uproar. Zayn had never again felt that angry; not until then.

          Liam watched him go, brows furrowed in concern before he finally stood and sought him out. Zayn stood facing a shelf of books, leaning against the hard wood. Liam’s attempt at touching Zayn’s shoulder was met coldly as the other man turned further away from him.

“Zayn, come on. What’s your problem?”

“ _My_ problem?” Zayn scoffed with a chuckle as he pulled back to look at Liam. “What’s _my_ problem? My problem is your ignorance, Payne.”

“My what? Why am I ignorant? What did I do?”

“It’s not just one thing, Liam. You’re stuck in this backwards, black and white way of thinking about everything and you never consider that, not even for a second, that you might be wrong,” Zayn said.

“Zayn, I-” Liam bit at his lower lip, trying his hardest to understand Zayn’s upset. “I didn’t know it bothered you so much; it’s just a stupid project.”

“That’s part of the problem, Liam. This is just a stupid project to you.”

“Come on, Zayn, you can’t tell me you actually give a damn about this. You couldn’t even care enough to do it yourself.”

Zayn cocked an eyebrow over to the other man, “You know what? You can go, I can do it myself.”

“No, I’ve started. I can finish it now. Besides, you’d fuck it up at this point anyway. You sympathize with those bitches too much.”

          Zayn didn’t see the charming brunette he’d found himself enamored with day in and day out. He didn’t see gold on black adorned on his shoulders to highlight Liam’s main talents. He didn’t see the bold yet invisible hues that lit up everything around Liam when he spoke, when he walked, when he smiled and laughed. Zayn saw red. Crimson. Fiery. Red.

“Zayn, what the fuck?!”

          Zayn didn’t register his own actions until he was looking at the boy doubled over in front of him, face buried in his hands. He’d hit him; punched him with a force he didn’t even knew he possessed and that Liam clearly hadn’t expected either. Instinct kicked in before intelligence, though, and Zayn couldn’t help himself at Liam’s words.

“Liam, I-”

“Shut up!” Liam huffed as he stood straight up, palm still covering his nose. “I don’t even want to hear it. You’re right; you should write your own fucking paper.”

“Liam, let me just take a look. Maybe it’s not that bad,” Zayn pleaded, following on Liam’s heels back to the table. “I didn’t mean it, and really, look at me and look at you: I doubt I could have hurt you that bad.”

          With a glare, Liam finally moved his hand from his face for the sole purpose of picking up his things, but Zayn only got a glance at his face as the other man turned and headed to the exit without another word.

“I can explain…” Zayn whispered, but Liam was long gone.

________________________________________________________________________

          Liam avoided Zayn. There were no answered calls, no texts or e-mails replied to. He didn’t sit in his usual spot across from Zayn at the wooden table for six among the shelves of literature. He didn’t wait on the marble bench that sat outside a science amphitheater in anticipation for Zayn to get out of class. He was never alone on campus; always surrounded by friends and teammates and organizational brethren who did little more than kiss up to him or ladies looking to get into his good graces. Zayn’s chance to apologize and explain didn’t come easy, and that was why he ended up on the porch of that large brick house that’d become all too familiar to him as of late.

“Liam’s not here, go away.”

“Louis!” Zayn quickly placed a hand firmly against the door to stop the other man from shutting it. “Look, I know he’s here. I…I have some work for him.”

“Doesn’t matter. He’s not here, I’m serious. Now, get off of our porch, fag.”

Zayn clenched his jaw and took a deep breath then spoke again, “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that and ask nicely: will you please ask Liam to come to the door? It’s important.”

“And I’m going to say it again: he’s not here, so get off of our porch, fag,” Louis repeated. “Besides, even if he were, he wouldn’t want to talk to you or see you or have you trying to suck his dick as you have been for weeks now.”

“First of all, Louis, you don’t know anything about what Liam and I do when we’re together, so please don’t pretend as if you do.”

“I may not know what the two of you do, but I have a pretty good idea what _you’re_ trying to do.”

“That’s funny, coming from the one person who spends more time kissing up to Liam’s ass than anyone else.”

“You’d better fucking watch it.”

“Just ask Liam to give me a call, please. It’s important.”

“Pass your fucking message to him yourself.” Louis glared then looked past Zayn as he shouted, “Liam, listen to what he has to say so he can get the fuck off of our doorstep.”

          Zayn turned around, meeting Liam face-to-face as the other boy made his way up to the porch with Andy and Harry at his sides.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Zayn. Go away,” Liam said, stepping straight past Zayn and then Louis as he continued going into the house.

“See? I told you that he wasn’t interested. Now, leave,” Louis stated.

Harry brushed past him on his way inside, giving Zayn an apologetic look, “I’ll talk to him for you, try to convince him to call, okay?”

“Go inside, Harry,” Andy nudged him along inside before he turned to Zayn, “He’s not going to call, so don’t hold your breath. I know you’re good at that, though, seeing as what you put down for Michael on the swim team last year.”

“Andy, don’t start, dude,” Harry tried to pull him inside, but to no avail.

          Zayn should have probably backed down, wordlessly admitted defeat and left, but if there was one thing he’d learned in his life, it was to fight and never let someone who was wrong have the last word. Backing down was almost a foreign concept to him.

Zayn rolled his eyes, “You’re even more pathetic than Michael who apparently believes his own rumor enough to spread it all the way down to you.”

“That’s a hell of a rumor for someone to start about a nobody like you then, but I doubt it’s a rumor; especially with your track record of all the dick you’ve sucked to land yourself all those nice spots on the Dean’s List every semester,” Louis’ words prompted a gleeful snort from Andy and another interjection from Harry.

“Knock it off, Lou.”

“Harry, get inside,” Liam stepped out from where he’d stayed posted near the door to tug on Harry’s arm, pulling the curly-haired boy inside before he leaned into the doorway to address Zayn. “Look, I tried to be nice, but you seem to be hard of understanding. Get your fudge-packing ass away from this house and away from me. I don’t want or need your help.”

Zayn’s eyes widened in bewilderment, brows furrowing, “Liam…”

“I don’t need your help, Zayn. Not the kind of help you were trying to give me anyways.”

“I did your work for you! You’re only pulling a B average right now because of me!”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“Liam, what are you doing? What’s wrong with you?” Harry turned to him.

Liam didn’t even look to him as he spoke, “Can it, Harry.”

          Zayn felt himself on the verge of tears, but refused to shed a single one. Not then, not in front of them or in front of Liam.

“Liam, you’re fucking dumb as rocks; you couldn’t pull a B from an alphabet chart. And you can stop putting on airs and calling me names, and trying to pretend that you hate me when you’re just-”

“That I what, Zayn? I fucking dare you to say what I think you’re going to say,” Liam glared.

          Zayn glanced at the other men around them, the intimidation he felt from Louis and Andy enough to make him decide that it was time to bow out, that standing up to face them, and their rumors and their insults and everything else they threw at him, was pointless.

“Good luck, Liam. Hope you don’t get cut,” Zayn shot a look to Liam, every emotion he felt then written all over his face with his words.

          He turned to walk back down the stairs and away from the house, hearing bits and pieces of a mix of Harry’s displeased tone and Liam’s shouting to shut him up as the door closed with his departure.

________________________________________________________________________

          Zayn didn’t know why he’d let Niall talk him into it, but yet, he had. He wasn’t even apart of the university’s Student Government Association, but Niall was and Niall thought Zayn had something to bring to the table regarding plans for the school’s homecoming events, so he insisted he help. Niall’s thoughts proved right because Zayn was partially to thank for at least three out of several events that’d been planned throughout the week, including a midnight breakfast that he was left to oversee with Harry’s help. As the SGA president had told them: _you guys’ idea, you two run it_.

          Zayn stood near the DJ’s booth with Harry that night. While the other man mingled and laughed with nearly everyone who came in, Zayn just watched students pile into the dining hall and into lines, clad in pajamas and slippers and loungewear, colors of black and gold decorating the space the organization had rearranged to seat them all comfortably. Among them, Zayn spotted the one person he’d tried to avoid for two weeks at that point, the one person he knew would be there, the one person who was the reason why he’d really wanted to sit midnight breakfast out.

          Brown eyes turned in his direction and locked straight onto his own for only a moment before Zayn looked away and broke that contact. Still, Zayn’s obvious disinterest in even looking at him didn’t stop Liam from looking because when Zayn glanced up again, his focus was still trained on him. Zayn turned his back, but suddenly found himself being turned around with a microphone being shoved into his hands and nudged along by Alison to a spot where he was more visible to the students who’d come out to the event.

          Zayn looked to the SGA members near the booth, Alison curling back against Niall’s side as the both of them, and Harry, gave him encouraging smiles and then he understood what was going on. He licked at his lips, trying to ignore the trembling in his hands as he lifted the mic to his mouth.

“Um, hello,” he cleared his throat, getting everyone’s attention and causing the chattering to die down in the room.

          He opened his mouth to speak again, but an all-too-familiar voice from a line across the room caused him to freeze up.

“Hey, Zach!” Andy shouted only to correct himself after a brief pause, “Hey, Zayn!”

“Zayn, just keep going. Ignore him,” Harry pushed.

          Zayn was almost set to do just as Harry urged, but he could feel his heart beating a mile a minute as that intimidation and fear he felt on the porch rushed back to him with a chorus of laughter from Andy’s corner of the room, laughter he’d come to recognize as commonplace teasing from Liam’s friends. He couldn’t keep going, wouldn’t keep going.

          Feedback echoed throughout the hall when Zayn dropped the microphone to the floor. Then, before he could be stopped, he’d pushed his way past other students and left the dining hall in a hurry, leaving Harry to step in and cover him in his abrupt absence. Zayn rushed down the stairs to the desolate court on the floor below, a space that normally would have been bustling with students going to and fro to get meals from one of the restaurants or small shops that lined the walls. He found a chair to settle into, trying to take deep breaths, but it wasn’t long after that he wasn’t alone.

“You worked really hard on this planning this, I heard, don’t you think you should be up there?”

Zayn turned to look in the direction of the voice for confirmation that he’d heard right, but quickly turned back around, “Go away, Liam.”

“Niall said you’d tell me that.”

“You should have listened and stayed away then.”

“Look, can we talk?”

“No, we cannot.”

“Come on, Zayn,” Liam said. “I really do need your help, you were right. I just barely made it by on midterms.”

“You think I’d help you after what you said to me, what you did, the way you made me feel?” Zayn glared, standing up to face Liam.

“Oh, and what you did and the things you said to me at the library that day weren’t hurtful?”

“I punched you for your insensitive comments, which, by the way, were nearly just as hurtful as your childish name calling.”

“You got mad at me for saying what we were both thinking about those chicks, and took it way too seriously.”

“No!” Zayn shouted, his voice echoing in the vacant space. “You were saying what _you_ were thinking, Liam! If my mother had been able to leave, she wouldn’t be in prison right now so no, I don’t share your views.”

“Zayn…I…I didn’t know, man. I’m sorry.”

Zayn snorted a laugh, shaking his head, “No, you’re not.”

“I am sorry, Zayn. I didn’t know your mom was in jail for…you know.”

“For driving a blade into my father 56 times? Yeah, she is; for 12 to 15 years. She did what she had to do to protect us when the police and the lawyers would do nothing, when they didn’t even take the word of the hospital, when running away didn’t keep him from us, when teachers couldn’t shield me because the law said he had rights to do whatever he wanted with me. My mother killed that bastard because he wasn’t going to ever stop unless someone stopped him for good,” Zayn spoke. “She should have gone another 44 times, made it an even hundred, and maybe even kept going until he was in pieces.”

“Zayn-“

“It’s not always easy to get away, Liam, and the fact that you think that is why I think you’re ignorant. And that’s something I was able to excuse. I was able to look past it because ignorance can be remedied,” Zayn said. “But the things you said to me that day spoke volumes to me about you as a person. I see what you do and say when I'm not around, and how you act with your friends, and I was able to see you for who you really are. And I can’t excuse that.”

“Zayn, I didn’t mean those things, I swear. You’re my friend.”

“You looked me in my eyes and downed me for my sexuality while trying to closet the extent our friendship has gone to at times, and you let your friends do the same to me without a word. You insinuated that I’ve done nothing for you when I’ve done my very best to help you out of a bad situation because I care enough about your future to not see all that talent you have go to waste even though I don’t give a fuck about football.” Zayn shook his head, forcing his tears back. “People don’t say and do those things if they care for someone, and consider them a friend. Liam, let’s be real: the only person you care about is Liam.”

“That’s not true at all. I care about you, Zayn. We’re friends.”

Zayn scoffed, “Bullshit.”

“I wouldn’t be here right now if I didn’t care.”

“Yes, you would be because you need me. Face it, Liam, that’s the only reason you’re here: you need me. If you cared anything about me as a person, you wouldn’t have done those things, you wouldn’t have let Andy and Louis get away with what they did. You’re only here because I have something you want,” he said. “Sucks for you, though, because you’re not getting it. Good luck passing without me, I’m done helping you. I hope you enjoy tonight’s breakfast; stupid me actually had you in mind when I asked that we get butter pecan syrup.”

          Zayn moved past Liam, heading to the exit and leaving a stunned Liam behind without a single glance back to him.

________________________________________________________________________

          This was Niall’s night. This was the night that the squad finally would perform that new routine they’d been working on. This was the night that Niall would be able to show off all his acrobatic prowess he possessed yet didn’t use as much as he’d hoped he would when he joined the squad. This was Niall’s night and that was why Zayn was there. Not the fact that it was Homecoming, but because it was Niall’s night. That’s what Zayn kept telling himself.

“All right, let’s get it! Go rattlers!”

          Poised in the bleachers, Zayn looked in the direction of Niall’s voice, noticing his attention was set on the field and straight to number 18, Harry grinning back to him, both of them decked out in matching colors of black and gold. With a shake of his head, Zayn looked back to the scoreboard: _**HOME: 14**_ , _**AWAY: 21**_. It was the nearly the end of the second quarter and this was the best they were pulling out; nearly the end of the second quarter, and this was the best Liam could pull out. Zayn hadn’t looked to the field much because he was there for Niall, but the few glances he took there gave him some insight into why that score looked the way it did: Liam was way off of his game.

          Zayn looked at the clock, trying to countdown the minutes he had left until halftime and calculating how long it’d be until he could leave. The bold flares of red dots fused into numbers kept Zayn’s attention for about a minute. It was about a minute that he stared at the clock, but it was still _only_ a minute. Only a minute and Zayn’s focus shifted with a sudden commotion around him.

          He looked back to the field for the source of the uproar and had to stand to see over those in front of him who’d taken to standing before him. Moving up, Zayn stood on the stadium seat and set hazel eyes down to the field below. Beneath the bright lights that lit up the stadium under the night sky, and past the huddle of men on the ground, Zayn’s attention went straight to Liam. Everything else around him seemed to disappear and, in that moment, all he saw was Liam; Liam, planted down on the turf and unmoving.

          Only a minute and Zayn had missed an entire play, but, according to the blend of words and yells around him, it was more of an attack disguised as a tackle rather than a legitimate play. Zayn stood, almost frozen, as he kept his eyes trained below where Liam was urged to get up in words and gentle nudges that held no effect.

          It was frightening and shook Zayn into a complete silence and stillness that didn’t allow him to regain his own composure enough to even _breathe_ until he saw Liam move a limb, and then, in true Liam fashion, try to push boundaries he couldn’t even come close to touching. Stepping down rows and moving past spectators, Zayn wasn’t sure why he thought leaping over the railing down onto the sidelines would go over without a hitch, but a security guard at his side was enough to bring him back to reality.

Zayn had no argument to provide reason for him to be there, but luck was on his side because Harry gave him one when he shouted from the huddle, “It’s fine! Let him over!”

          He could feel several sets of eyes on him, and could hear the confused whispers and annoyed tones directed at Harry, but still, no one challenged their teammate when he insisted that Zayn was Liam’s best friend who’d make him listen. And no one stopped Zayn when he eased into the middle of them all and settled at Liam’s side.

“Liam,” Zayn sighed.

“I’m fine. Seriously, Zayn, I’m fine.”

“Liam,” Zayn said, his tone deepening as it became sterner. “Just let them look you over to be sure.”

“I don’t need to be looked over.”

          Zayn didn’t argue with Liam anymore; he merely set his eyes on his and locked them into brief staring match which ended when Liam’s icy stare eventually softened and his brazen tone hushed as he laid completely back against the turf and allowed himself to be lifted onto a stretcher, shaking his head in annoyance.

“It’s for you own good, Li,” Harry patted his shoulder.

          Zayn stepped back to allow the medics to pass, but Liam’s tug on his sleeve urged him to follow. Across the turf, Zayn could feel his whole body tense, knowing all eyes were on him. He didn’t want to look up, but he took a glance as they passed the sidelines, catching eyes with an obviously disappointed Niall and he looked back at the clock to see what he’d knew from the expression: he would likely miss Niall’s routine if he went back there with Liam.

          He should have probably turned and went back out to find his seat in the crowd, but Liam’s finger still clutching onto the inside of his sleeve kept him poised at his side until they reached the medics work area. Zayn sat on a nearby chair while they moved Liam onto the cot, starting to ask him question after question and he could see it was all overwhelming to Liam, especially because they wouldn’t allow him to move.

          As soon as one medic left and the other stepped away to fill out papers following the assessment, Zayn was at Liam’s side, helping him sit up, but before he could move away, Liam pulled him to sit on the cot beside him, leaning into Zayn’s chest and using him for the support he obviously needed. Zayn took one look over to the medic busy with paperwork then arched his head to deliver a quick, comforting kiss to Liam’s temple, drawing a smile out of him.

“Who’s out there tonight?” Zayn whispered.

“The Lions.”

“Good or no?”

“Been to Detroit once, I wasn’t crazy about it,” Liam said, and earned a chuckle from Zayn. “Zayn?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

“We’ll talk about it later.”

          Before Liam could speak again, though, an exaggerated Southern drawl resounded off the concrete hall outside of the room: _“Mason, I don’t give a damn what you do! Just get out there and make sure those sons of bitches pay for what they did to my boy!”_

“Shit,” Liam cursed. “Zayn, you have to go.”

“Why? What’d I do? I said we’ll talk about it later.”

“It’s not that, Zayn…” Liam spoke in a hush tone. “You have to go. Please.”

          Zayn didn’t understand, but he did as Liam asked and moved some pillows in his place as he stood so Liam wouldn’t fall completely back to the cot. He looked to Liam and could see the look of slight fear in his eyes, but as Zayn placed his hand on the knob to the door, it was pushed open into him, sending him back.

“Where is he?”

          Zayn’s eyes widened when they fell upon a man who Liam was nearly the spitting image of with soft brown eyes, sculptured cheek bones and all.

“I’m fine, Dad.”

“You should have gotten your ass up. It’s homecoming. You just let them take you down out there, and you’ve been fucking up all over the place all night. Don’t you know that Detroit is out there watching you? What the fuck is wrong with you? Can’t take a hit all of a sudden?”

“Sorry, sir,” Liam murmured. “I’ve been trying.”

“Well, you haven’t been trying hard enough,” he berated then turned to the stunned medic. “Did you look him over? Can he get back out there yet?”

“I think he should sit the rest of the game out tonight, to be honest,” she replied.

“Are you a doctor?”

“No, but-”

“Well, I guess your ‘medical opinion’ doesn’t mean shit, does it?” Liam’s father spoke then turned to his sit, forcing Liam up. “Get up, son. Let’s go.”

“Sir-“

“Can you just let the coach know he’ll back to the game?”

          The medic was hesitant, but with a heavy sigh, she retreated from the room. Zayn kept quiet, watching the scene play out before him and then he got it. He got why Liam worked so hard on something he only marginally enjoyed, why he nearly broke down at the idea of not doing that one thing. It wasn’t for him; it was for his father. Zayn silently kept his distance, but swiftly stepped in when he noticed Liam wince at the rough shove from his father.

“Mr. Payne, I don’t think he’s going to be able to get back out there tonight. Look at him, he’s hurting.”

“You’re the young man who leaped over the railing to help. Who the hell are you?” Mr. Payne questioned.

“I’m fine,” Liam glared at Zayn through clenched teeth. “Zayn, you can go.”

“Zayn?!”

          Zayn found himself on the end of an angry look from Liam’s father then, one that he and Liam both understood with his next words.

“This is the Zayn that Louis and Andy mentioned to me?! This is Zayn?!” he exclaimed. “You’re not a girl.”

“No, I-I’m not…” Zayn shook his head.

“From the way they spoke about all the time my son was spending with you, I had to assume you were.” Mr. Payne turned back to his son, not hesitating when he delivered a backhand blow to the already injured boy. “Again, Liam? Again?! I didn’t pay all of that money for you to be right back to this shit. I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but it ends now.”

“Dad.”

“Say your goodbyes to him. I’m not putting up with this shit from you again, Liam. I don’t care how old you are now, I’ll send you back there without a second thought. Whatever it takes to end this…phase.”

          Zayn didn’t need a goodbye or an explanation then. It was all perfectly clear then, made all of the sense in the world. _“I keep telling myself that they’ll all pass and they don’t.”_ _“I shouldn’t feel like this. I can’t feel like this.”_ _“I can’t, Zayn. This is so wrong.”_ _“I fucking dare you to say what I think you’re going to say.”_ When Liam’s eyes fell upon his, Zayn knew without a shadow of a doubt. Zayn didn’t want to back down. He was prepared to fight, to not let Mr. Payne have that last word when he was clearly wrong. So, so wrong. But the pleading look on Liam’s face made him reconsider. Zayn wasn’t a hero, and he wasn’t about to be that night, either. Instead, he didn’t let Liam say a single word before he did the favor for both him and for his father.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING:** This chapter contains homophobic slurs and sexual content.
> 
> Also, I apologize for how much it sucks. I think this was really another chapter of filler.

          The night of that homecoming game seemingly went forgotten. They were right back to square one, right back to being strangers, right back to being passed by on campus without a word, right back to Liam pretending that Zayn didn’t exist…and it cut Zayn like a knife.

Zayn looked up from the novel in his lap when he heard a knock at his bedroom door. “Yeah?” he answered, expecting his grandmother and not the two men who came in. “What are you guys doing here?” Zayn sighed, returning his focus back to his book.

“We’re here to take you out,” Niall said, settling on the edge of Zayn’s bed as Harry sat in the chair behind the desk.

“I went out this morning.”

“Going to school doesn’t really count as going out,” Harry said.

“I had to get up, get dressed, catch a bus. Seemed like going out to me.”

“Zayn,” Niall sighed. “Just come catch a movie with us, maybe grab some food, do something besides sit in here and mope for nothing.”

“I’m not moping.”

“You’re so moping,” Niall disagreed.

“Look, if you want to leave at any point, we won’t stop you. I’ll even bring you home,” Harry urged. “Just a movie. A late dinner, only if you’re up for it. Just a little hangout before fall break.”

          Zayn shifted his focus from his book and looked between the two men with a heavy sigh, earning smiles from both of them.

________________________________________________________________________

          It was crowded; too crowded for Zayn’s liking, and all he wanted to do was go back to the privacy of his apartment. His want only intensified when Zayn spotted a familiar face just a couple of lines over, a black-haired girl planted at his side. Zayn watched them interact, the way she giggled and smiled and he flirted back, the way her caramel-toned hand brushed against any inch of his skin she could touch, the way her lips touched against his. There to administer playful teasing were a blonde and brunette, and the two men who never seemed to leave Liam’s side, and the entire scene had Zayn sick to his stomach.

“I wanna go home,” he said.

“What? We’re almost at the front of the line, Zayn,” Harry turned to him.

“You said you’d take me home whenever I said I wanted to leave, and I want to leave now.”

“Zayn-”

“ _Now_ , Niall.”

“I don’t get why-”

“Hey, Harry!”

          Harry stopped speaking at the sound of his own name and looked up to spot Andy waving in his direction before the other man walked over, stopping short as soon as he spotted Niall and Zayn.

“Oh, didn’t realize you were hanging with your charity cases tonight.”

“What do you want, Andy?” Harry glared.

“I was going to ask you to join us and the girls,” Andy smiled then looked pointedly at Zayn. “Catch the movie with us, meet Liam’s new girlfriend. She’s cute, isn’t she?”

“Doesn’t really seem like Liam’s type, but if you say so.”

Andy scoffed at Harry, “The fact that you don’t know his type is probably why he’s never trusted you to find him a date.”

“That, and the fact that I try to keep my nose out of other people’s affairs, and let them be happy with whomever they want to be with,” Harry retorted, taking a small glance at Zayn who quickly lowered his head.

“You got jokes, huh, Harry or does this faggot have you that fooled about what him and Liam had going on?”

          Harry’s green eyes turned to slits and it was no more than a split second before his hands were wrapped tightly around the hem of Andy’s shirt as he tugged him in so they were face-to-face.

“Call him a faggot again and I’ll beat your ass the way I did back in Galveston.”

“Harry, let’s go.” Niall warned, tugging on his arm.

Andy chuckled, shaking his head, “I don’t know why I never guessed what team you bat for; you’ve been pretty suspect for a good while.”

“Having the decency to not call people out of their names or put up with some dick who can’t ever stop running his mouth doesn’t make him gay, Andy,” Niall said, prying Harry’s hands away from Andy and pulling him away. “It just makes him better than you.”

“You only think he’s better than me because he’s obviously fucking you.”

“Do you ever shut your mouth?!” Zayn yelled, reaching out to shove the taller blond, sending him into a few people in the next line over, and subsequently, attracting the attention of several people in the area.

“You are going to get it,” Andy glowered, stepping back towards Zayn.

          Frightfully, Zayn took a step back, taking several more when Andy didn’t stop descending upon him until his nervous system finally picked up on the signals he was giving in his brain: to run. Zayn could hear the crowd behind him and vaguely heard Harry call after Andy; he didn’t stop, though. He ran towards the street to run out into the parking lot, a passing car cutting his run short and stalling him enough to allow someone to grab him. Zayn shut his eyes then, preparing for the blows that didn’t come.

“Touch him and I’ll break your fucking neck, Andy!”

          Zayn recognized that voice. That scent. That touch. Opening his eyes, he looked down to the hand gripping his sleeve, recognizing the sleeve of the letterman jacket he wore.

“Liam, the fuck are you doing, dude?”

“You go too far. If you don’t like him, fine, but you don’t have to hit him, and you need to cut the name-calling. That shit’s not cool.” Liam kept his place between Andy and Zayn, loosening his hold on Zayn enough to let him go. “Let’s go. I don’t want to see a movie anymore.”

“Are you kidding me right now?”

“Come get in the fucking truck or get left,” Liam stated before he headed in the direction of the parking lot.

“Andy, let’s go,” Louis sighed, following Liam with their dates in tow, “We can’t ever go anywhere without you being an embarrassment to us.”

“An embarrassment? All I-” Andy followed, earning a yell from Liam and Louis both.

“Shut up, Andy!”

          Zayn frowned as he watched them go, looking to Harry and Niall when they came over to him.

“ _Now_ , will you take me home?”

________________________________________________________________________

          When Zayn heard the knock on the front door of his apartment the following day, he half-expected it to be Niall or Harry trying to get him out again before they all parted for a short break, or worse, convince him to accompany them on their trip home to California for Thanksgiving. So, he ignored it. He ignored it the first time, the second, and the third until the person on the other side of it spoke.

“Zayn, I talked to Niall; he hasn’t seen you on campus all day, so I know you’re here. Open the door, please.”

          There was a part of Zayn that wanted to continue ignoring the visitor at the door, continuing digging through his items and packing them away as if he wasn’t aware he had one, but Liam’s voice a second time made him change his mind.

“Zayn, I just want to see how you’re doing…”

          Tossing his toiletry bag to the dresser, Zayn stomped to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open to be met with a rather worn looking Liam who’d clearly had a hell of a night.

“You see me? Look at my face. Get a good look. You done?”

          Liam pushed the door back open when Zayn went to close it, stopping him.

“You know that’s now that I mean,” Liam said. “Can I come in?”

“I don’t know, _can_ you?” Zayn replied snarkily then walked away from the door, heading back to his bedroom.

          Liam entered, shutting the door behind him and following Zayn to his room where he took a seat on the edge of the bed next to Zayn’s open suitcase.

“I just wanted to come check on you…you know, after last night.”

“Why? I’m fine.”

“You looked really upset.”

“Sometimes, people look like that when they have someone towering over them, about to barrel down on them.”

“He wasn’t going to hit you, Zayn. I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

“You never stopped him from anything else he’s done before. Why step in this time?”

“I’m sorry,” Liam apologized. “I should have, though.”

Zayn turned to Liam, his annoyance evident on his face and in his tone as he spoke, “What do you want, Liam?”

“Your forgiveness.”

“My what?”

“I want you to forgive me because I’m sorry, Zayn. I’ve been a shit friend to you and I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Will you stop saying that?!” Liam exclaimed, getting Zayn’s attention locked on him for sure then. “It’s not okay, Zayn. Having people mistreat you and do things to you that aren’t nice or whatever isn’t okay. What I did was wrong and fucked up because you’re my friend and I care about you; it wasn’t okay. None of it was. The fight at the house, letting my dad diction our friendship-”

“Dictate.”

“That too.” Liam continued, “It wasn’t okay. I’m sorry…and this time, I really mean it. I am so sorry.”

          Zayn was quiet as he continued packing his toiletries into a bag, only stepping near Liam to reach his suitcase in a move that had Liam’s fingers wrapping around his wrist and forcing Zayn to give him his full attention, brown locking on hazel. Their eyes stayed focused on one another’s for a long while, only breaking contact when Zayn’s eyes closed as Liam leaned up and pressed his lips to his. The kiss was steady, it was deliberate, it was full of vigor and every emotion Liam had tucked away somewhere inside of him, emotions Zayn shared and that overshadowed any amount of anger or disdain he ever held for Liam.

Zayn broke their kiss, whispering against Liam’s lips, “I forgive you.”

“Thank you, that’s all I wanted…” Liam smiled, giving another peck to Zayn’s lips before he let him go.

“Is that all you wanted? Forgiveness and a kiss?”

“Well, what are my chances of getting your forgiveness…and a side of you?”

“You don’t want me.”

“Don’t tell me what I want when I’m capable of deciding that for myself.”

          Zayn didn’t respond, just went back his suitcase, organizing the few items in it.

“You going away for break?”

“Yeah, getting a little away time.”

“You going with Harry and Niall?”

“No; home.”

“How long is your flight? When will you be back?”

“It’s an almost 17 hour drive,” Zayn sighed, moving back and forth between his closet and dresser, trying to decide on clothing to pack. “So, I won’t be back until late Sunday, maybe even early Monday, middle of the night.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Liam stood from the bed, following Zayn as he moved about the room. “You’re driving?”

“Flying and then getting still having to get a rental car and a hotel room was too expensive.”

“By yourself? Zayn, that’s crazy.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve driven home alone, Liam. I’ll be fine.”

          Liam fell quiet then, watching Zayn pack his suitcase, watching the way his honey-toned hands took his time folding each article of clothing before he set it in his suitcase in some sort of organization he was fixated on, but that Liam couldn’t really make sense of.

“I’ll come with you,” he finally spoke again.

“What?” Zayn turned his nose up, glancing to the brunette only momentarily.

“I’m going to come with you, help you with driving and gas, and whatever else. You won’t even have to rent a car; we can take my truck.”

“First of all…no. Second, your dad is not going to let that happen even if I did agree.”

“Okay, first, yes. Second, my dad doesn’t have to know.”

“Liam, I’m going home to spend Thanksgiving with my family, do the whole dinner thing, you know? I doubt you want to be involved in that.”

“I do,” Liam quickly said. “I want to come with you, keep you company.”

“Liam-” Zayn sighed in exasperation, looking at him.

“What time are we getting on the road?”

“You’re not coming with me and I mean it.”

________________________________________________________________________

“Zayn, what’s the hotel address so I can map it? How do the tires look to you? Do they look like they need air? Maybe we should put the cooler on the floor in the back instead of the trunk, you think?”

“Liam!” Zayn shouted from the trunk of Liam’s SUV. “Will you please chill out? If you want to do something so bad, you can help me move this suitcase of yours. What the hell do you even have in here?”

          Liam climbed from the front seat, going around to the trunk to shift things around to place Zayn’s suitcase in.

“You do know we’re only going to be gone a few days, right?”

“Yeah, and I brought two outfits per day.”

“Wow. Unnecessary, much?” Zayn said, grabbing a few snacks from the cooler before he went to the passenger side of the truck.

“Never hurts to be prepared.”

          Liam joined Zayn in the front of the car, taking the hotel confirmation sheet Zayn offered up.

“You only got one bed?”

“When I made the reservation, I’d only planned for there to be one of me, so.”

“You could have asked me to come.”

“Why would I have done that? We were fighting or ignoring one another or something.”

          Liam flashed the paper in his hand to Zayn, showing him the confirmation date.

“We weren’t fighting then. We went to that park that day. Remember? Those ducks turned on you when you ran out of food for them.”

“No, not really.”

“Yeah, they wouldn’t stop chasing you and you got on my back and wouldn’t get down until we got back to the car.”

          Zayn fell quiet then, so Liam said no more. He put the address into the truck’s navigation system and situated himself in the car. Glancing over at Zayn to be sure he was buckled in, Liam pulled out of his parking spot and headed for the highway. It wasn’t until several miles later, when they finally reached it, that Zayn spoke again.

“I remember that day. It was fun…until the ducks, I mean.”

“So, why didn’t you mention your trip to me then?”

“I figured you didn’t give a shit.”

“Why wouldn’t I? You tell me all kinds of stuff, why not that?”

Zayn tugged his lower lip between his teeth, his gaze focused on his hands in his lap.

“I figured that by Thanksgiving, the semester would be pretty much over and you wouldn’t be in need of my help anymore…and then we wouldn’t be friends.”

“Zayn, I don’t need you to be helping me to be your friend. I’m your friend, regardless, and you’re mine. Forget all that other shit that happened. We’re friends.”

“For how long?”

“What do you mean?”

          Zayn shook his head, blowing off an answer. He and Liam were friends. They were the very best of friends until someone else stepped in between them, until he was reminded of where Zayn’s place on the campus hierarchy was, until his father reminded him of what he wanted him to be. They were the very best of friends until he went back to hiding himself.

________________________________________________________________________

          The drive had been long, but they’d managed to make it in just over 16 hours with Zayn driving the last half of the ride while Liam slept, a switch of their roles from the first half. Since they’d pulled up in front of the hotel, Liam couldn’t help the expression that’d crossed his face and when they drove around to the parking lot outside of the side entrance, he still didn’t drop it.

“Look, I know it’s not the Four Seasons or the W or anything else you might be accustomed to, but it’s all I could afford when I made my reservations, and there weren’t a lot of places with vacancies because of the holiday.”

“Yeah, but…”

“It’s a Holiday Inn Express, Liam. It can’t be that bad.”

“That’s exactly it; it’s a Holiday Inn.”

“You can always sleep in your car,” Zayn grinned, tossing Liam the keys.

          With a roll of his eyes, then, Liam unbuckled his seatbelt and unlocked his door before Zayn stepped out of the truck and went to the back to unload the trunk. Liam got out and went to the back to help, stopping Zayn.

“Zayn, don’t get that heavy stuff, I’ll get it.”

“I wasn’t planning on getting the heavy stuff. I was leaving that to you, Mr. Quarterback,” Zayn said as he grabbed his backpack, pillow and blanket, slung the bag over his shoulder then went into the building.

          Liam groaned, grabbing his suitcase and Zayn’s and pulling them along into the building, making sure to close and lock the truck as he followed behind Zayn where he was waiting inside the elevator for him.

“You still never told me what you told your dad,” Zayn looked at Liam, leaning against the wall of the elevator.

“About?”

“The trip.”

          The elevator dinged as they reached the upper level and Zayn held the door to allow Liam to exit first with their luggage.

“I just told him I was going with Harry for the holiday, going to California.”

“Think that’ll work?”

“Well, he doesn’t really know Harry aside from the fact that he’s my friend. Plus, Harry’s going to take a ton of pictures and send them to me so I can save them to my phone and pretend I took them.”

“Wow, that’s smart. Was it Harry’s idea?”

          Liam looked offended as he paused in the hall, but Zayn kept walked with a grin, only stopping at the end of the hall before he disappeared into the room, letting the door close behind him before Liam could reach it.

“Is this entire trip going to be you making a fool out of me?” Liam questioned from outside the locked door.

“Probably,” Zayn smirked, but opened the door nonetheless.

“Holy…” Liam’s eyes widened as he stepped into the room, which hadn’t been done much justice by the outside of the building.

“That’s why you don’t judge a book by its cover, Payne. Look, it’s even got a mini-fridge. We can take the food out of the cooler. Where’s the cooler?”

“In the truck,” Liam said as he set their suitcases aside, and he had to admit Zayn had been right: his was unnecessarily full.

“Okay, well, go get it.”

“Can I rest first?”

“No, I’m thirsty.”

          Zayn went to where Liam had sat on the edge of the kind-sized bed and tugged him up from his spot, shoving him to the door.

“I told you my forgiveness doesn’t come free; you gotta work for it.”

“I didn’t think you actually meant physical labor.”

          Liam did as Zayn asked, going back downstairs to the trunk to retrieve the last few items they’d left in it, including the cooler and found the door slightly ajar when he returned. Stepping in, Liam spotted his pajama pants and a t-shirt laid out on the bed next to his bottle of body wash of other toiletries. Zayn’s presence in the bathroom was made known by the running shower and his insistence on singing at the top of his lungs, the noise echoing off the shower walls. Liam didn’t bother turning on the television or checking his phone or finding any other sources of entertainment while he started to unpack the cooler and load items into the mini-fridge. Instead, he just listened to the sound of Zayn’s voice, something he was sure that he could never get enough of.

          It was a rather extended shower, and Liam had managed to take the cooler outside to dump the excess water and come back to the room all before Zayn had come out. Returning to the room, though, he found Zayn there near the bed clad in pajama pants…and one of his old jerseys he usually slept in.

“Is stealing my clothes part of me earning your forgiveness?” Liam asked, amused.

“I found this, and I’ve always liked how it looked on you so I wanted to wear it.”

“First of all, you didn’t _find_ it; you took it out of my suitcase. Second, it’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“I took some things out of your bag for you; figured you might want to freshen up and then relax.”

          Liam didn’t hesitate to take Zayn’s suggestion and hurried to the bathroom with the items on the bed. He didn’t take nearly as long as Zayn had, though, but when he returned, Zayn was curled up underneath the hotel’s comforter. He smiled over to Liam then patted the spot next to him.

“This bed feels so amazing, way better than sitting upright on your ass for 16 hours.”

          Liam chuckled and went to the bed, climbing into it next to Zayn only to find himself on the receiving end of being pulled into a hug.

“Thank you,” Zayn whispered.

“For what?”

“Coming with me,” he clarified. “At least I know that with you there, seeing my dad’s family won’t be _so_ bad.”

“It’ll be fine, Zayn. Like I told you in the car, they’re idiots if they even begin to blame you for what happened and then that’s just your cue to leave.”

“It was his fault.”

“Whose fault? Your dad?”

“Yeah, he brought it on himself.”

“Okay, yeah, I would suggest not saying that over dinner,” Liam snorted.

“Well, it’s true.”

“Zayn,” Liam shook his head, unable to understand the side Zayn had taken in his father’s death, almost as if he was absolving his mother of all responsibility in it. “She stabbed him to death.”

“And unfortunately, she went to jail.”

“Unfortunately? Zayn, she killed him,” Liam said, sitting up to look at Zayn.

“You don’t understand, Liam. He got what he deserved; my mother didn’t.”

“She _killed_ someone, Zayn,” Liam said. “What don’t you get about that? You’re lucky she’s not in there for life.”

“She protected us. The judge saw that too, I guess, and sympathized by offering her manslaughter.”

“There were so many other ways, Zayn; your mother made a choice. A bad choice.”

“We tried everything, Liam,” Zayn spoke softly as he moved to sit up. “My mom isn’t a bad person. She did what she thought she had to do to keep me safe. She did it for her too, but it was mostly for me. She wanted me to be okay, and I think my mother’s a fucking saint for what she did.” Zayn said. “She’s not a bad person, Liam, and I know you’ll think so too when you meet her.”

Liam’s eyes widened as he turned to Zayn, “Meet her?”

“Yeah,” Zayn nodded. “You think I’m going to travel all the way to Florida and not visit my mom?”

“Well,” Liam furrowed his brows. “I guess not, but do you really want me there?”

Zayn shrugged, “I’d like for you to meet her, see that she’s not the devil in disguise or anything like that. Plus, I think it’s only fair that she put a face with the name she hears so much.”

“Oh? She hear my name a lot?”

          Zayn lowered his head, but the look of guilt was evident all across it.

Liam chuckled, leaning in to nudge his shoulder to Zayn’s, “You talk about me a lot?”

Zayn smiled, his cheeks reddening as he spoke, “My grandma mentioned you hanging out at the house and then you answered my phone that time, which only peaked her curiosity even more. So, when we talk, she’d asked me about you.”

“I’d hate to hear what you told her when you were mad at me.”

“That you were scum and that if I had a car, I’d run you down with it,” Zayn shrugged again, prompting Liam’s eyes to widen frightfully until Zayn turned to him with a laugh. “I’m just shitting you, I didn’t actually tell her that. Do you think I’d really make a death threat over a monitored phone line?”

“I was about to say,” Liam let out a relieved sigh. “Were you actually thinking that, though?”

“You bet your ass I was.”

“Damn. I guess I deserved it, though.” There was a quiet in the room then before Liam turned to look at Zayn again, locking eyes with him before he spoke, “I’m really sorry for what I did, what I said…what I _didn’t_ do that I should have. Really, really sorry.”

“It’s okay, Liam.”

“No, it’s not. Stop saying that. Nothing about what I did is okay, Zayn.”

“You’ve redeemed yourself, Li, that’s what counts,” Zayn said, reaching a hand out to rub at Liam’s shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you’re forgiven. You were officially forgiven the moment you stopped Andy from hitting me, I’ve just been yanking your chain all the time after that,” Zayn laughed.

“I hate you,” Liam laughed. “So…we’re okay?”

“Yeah, we’re okay…better than okay,” Zayn smiled.

          Looking to Zayn, Liam gave a small smile and leaned in, locking his arms around Zayn’s waist as his lips touched his. Zayn only intensified their kiss, though, moving to situate his body over Liam’s, straddling his frame. If Liam didn’t know they were okay then, it was cemented when Zayn brought things further than they’d ever been to in the past. He didn’t stop short of easing them both out of their shirts or letting his hands roam over Liam’s bare chest or toying with the waistband of Liam’s pants. He went past that, sending a shiver up Liam’s spine as his breath caught in his throat.

“Zayn, wait,” Liam grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand out of his pants. “We don’t have to do this.”

“Why? You-you don’t want to?”

“Of course, but you just…it seems like you’re hurrying it for some reason. We can wait, Zayn, when you’re not tired from driving or when we’re not in some hotel bed that millions of other people have fucked in, when you’re sure you forgive me.”

“I’m not that tired, and I think you’re exaggerating the number of people who’ve fucked here since this place was redone. But I do forgive you,” Zayn said, sliding his hand up to lace his and Liam’s fingers. “I want to show you how much I forgive you.”

“Okay, whatever. It probably hasn’t been millions, but you still don’t have to prove your forgiveness to me. I believe you.”

“What if...I want to?”

“Do you really?”

“I do.” Zayn nodded before he pecked at Liam’s lips then moved down his body, whispering, “Just trust me; I know what I want and I trust you enough to let you give it to me.”

          Trusting Zayn wasn’t the hard part; shaking those feelings that he was taking advantage of the situation was. Even though this was all Zayn’s idea and everything Zayn said he wanted, Liam couldn’t let go of those thoughts.

          He glanced down to Zayn as he kissed his way down’s Liam’s body, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of pants to pull them down, exposing Liam’s erection to the coolness of the room. Zayn raised an eyebrow as he looked up at Liam with a smirk planted on his face, and Liam knew exactly what he was thinking.

“You didn’t set any underwear out for me, remember?”

“I guess it slipped my mind,” Zayn said.

Liam rolled his eyes in amusement, “Of course it did.”

          Liam kept his gaze focused on Zayn, fighting against closing his eyes with his moan when Zayn’s lips wrapped around the head of his cock. Liam tangled his fingers through Zayn’s dark hair, letting Zayn take him at his own pace, the other man taking him in inch-by-inch until he felt Liam hit the back of his throat. Zayn pulled up only to take Liam in again all at once, relaxing his throat muscles as he bobbed his head. Liam moved beneath Zayn only slightly then stilled, moved his hands from Zayn’s hair. There was so much his body wanted to do, but his nerves wouldn’t allow him to.

Pulling off of him again, Zayn moved to sit up and look at him, “You really don’t want this, do you?”

“I do,” Liam sighed. “I just…I feel like I’m taking advantage of you, and I don’t want it to be that way. I mean, you’re not my first or anything, and I don’t want you to feel like you’re just going to be another notch in my bedpost, you know?”

“Well, this bed doesn’t have posts. It’s also not yours,” Zayn teased.

Liam couldn’t keep his laugh in then, “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know, though” Zayn forced a smile, lowering his head. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t feel like that. I don’t think you have this endless list of dudes you’ve slept with.”

“I don’t.”

“Neither do I…just one,” Zayn admitted. “It was bad.”

“Bad?”

“He was too rough and he always came too fast and it was just, ugh, it was always bad,” Zayn said. “But I guess we should get some rest then maybe we can get up and go grab a really late dinner. There’s a Denny’s up the street.”

          Liam was quiet for a long while as he stared at Zayn while the dark-haired boy laid down, resting his head against his pillow he’d brought and closing his eyes.

Leaning in, he kissed Zayn’s lips again then whispered, “Zayn?”

“Huh?”

“You trust me?”

          Zayn opened his eyes to look at Liam with a nod and a smile.

“Really?”

“I do; I trust you.”

Liam sat up and moved to plant his body on top of Zayn’s, “I’m going to make it good for you, I promise,” Liam whispered, pressing his lips to Zayn’s neck and kissing him there. “Trust me.”

“I trust you,” Zayn murmured.

          He trusted Liam; he trusted Liam a hell of a lot, though he couldn’t help but to inwardly keep his fingers crossed that he wouldn’t end up getting riled up and having Liam pull back or his nerves get the best of him again. That didn’t seem to happen, though. Liam’s full lips touched at his skin, over nearly every part of him that wasn’t clothed, and removed the articles from the parts that were to allow that contact he wanted. Their lips came in touch with one another again only briefly before Liam was moving away from him and going to his bag, searching through it only to turn to Zayn with a bottle of lotion in hand.

“Zayn,” Liam spoke. “I don’t – I don’t have-”

“Well, you couldn’t have used that with it, anyway,” Zayn shrugged and Liam looked to the bottle of lotion in his hand. “Are you sure you’re taking science courses?” Zayn laughed playfully.

“Shut up,” Liam laughed, moving back onto the bed and leaping onto Zayn to tackle him. “I hate you so much.”

“I hate you too,” Zayn grinned as Liam’s assault came to an end.

          He slowly took the bottle away from Liam and opened it to pour a bit into his hand then began to palm Liam’s cock, coating him with it. Zayn could feel his own nervousness beginning to build then as it hit him: this was happening. What he’d wanted since he first laid eyes on Liam Payne was about to happen, and it wasn’t happening because they were simply two college students with hormomes out of control or because either of them were less than of sound mind or because Liam thought it’d be a good way to say thank to you Zayn for his help before he disappeared from his life forever; it was happening because Liam cared for him and he cared for Liam. It was happening because they both wanted it, truly wanted it.

          Zayn’s stomach was in knots as Liam thrusted two fingers into him, thumb brushing over the outside of his entrance as he stretched him. He almost came apart beneath him then, but Liam didn’t allow that happen as he pulled his fingers away and settled comfortably between Zayn’s legs, replacing his fingers with his cock in one motion and Zayn knew there wasn’t about to be any pulling back that time.

          Liam gripped at Zayn’s hips, beginning a steady, slow rhythm in and out of him, and Zayn lifted his legs to settle them on Liam's shoulders. Liam leaned down to kiss Zayn again just as Zayn was lifting up to do the same, resulting in their foreheads butting against one another.

“Ouch,” Zayn giggled. “Why the hell do you even wear a helmet on the field. Jeez, Liam.”

          Their moment of laughter came to a wrap when they finally found each other’s lips again and locked them together. Zayn moaned into their when Liam’s position above him shifted only slightly, urging him deeper into him. Liam was nervous, maybe even just as nervous as he was, and Zayn knew he was holding back. Zayn wanted this; there was no need need to hold back. Zayn pushed Liam off and to the spot next to him, hearing a soft thump when Liam’s head hit the headboard in the movement.

“Baby,” Zayn chuckled, rubbing at the back of Liam’s head.

“I didn’t know sex would give me a concusission.”

“You’re okay.”

          Moving atop Liam, Zayn pressed kisses to his chest as he lifted up then slid down onto Liam’s cock until he had filled him completely again, and Zayn didn’t hold back. Sitting up, he started at a pace Liam hadn’t come close to reaching, moving up and down on his cock. Liam’s fingertips dug into Zayn’s hips as Zayn worked his body down against his, and he lifted his hips to meet Zayn’s.

          It wasn’t rough, but it wasn’t gentle either. It wasn’t quick or slow. They’d found a medium that worked, that Liam enjoyed and Zayn did too, that brought their bodies together the way they seemed to belong. There was an imaginary magnetic pull then that kept together, kept their lips locked and their bodies moving in sync. It wasn’t bad; it wasn’t bad at all. And as the pressure from Liam’s cock against that small bundle of nerves got to him, causing him to come undone between their stomachs as Liam came apart inside of him, Zayn felt that he’d kept his promise. He'd made it good for him without even trying. He'd made it good because it worked; they worked.

          Moving off of Liam, Zayn laid next to him, turning onto his side to face him. Liam looked over to him and gave a gentle smile, reaching out to touch his cheek briefly.

“I kind of really hate you,” Zayn grinned.

“That’s okay,” Liam shrugged. “I hate you too.”

          With a smile, Liam’s hand moved from Zayn’s cheek, seeking out on of his hands before their fingers were intertwined.

________________________________________________________________________

“You okay?” Zayn looked to Liam with a smile, hazel eyes nearly beaming with his excitement.

“Yeah…I-I guess.”

“Don’t be nervous,” Zayn leaned up to peck at Liam’s lips gently. “My mom isn’t going to bite your head off. She’ll just be happy to meet you and see for herself that you’re a good guy…and you’ll see that she’s a good person too.”

          Liam nodded, but he still felt as if his nerves were on fire, anxiety coursing through his entire being. He followed closely behind Zayn into the building and to the gated entrance where the woman at the desk looked up at them.

“Who you seeing?”

“Valen Malik,” Zayn replied. “We’re Zayn Malik and Liam Payne. I have a copy of the fax I got confirming his approval to visit,” Zayn pulled the sheet of paper from his pocket as the woman checked the list before her.

          The whole check-in process didn’t do much to ease Liam’s nerves: turning over his ID, going through a metal detector and being patted down, even having to watch them send the Thanksgiving meal Zayn had brought through a scanner to check it.

“It’s just procedure; we know with the holiday today people are going to bringing all type of stuff, but we’ve gotta check it, you know?”

          Liam just nodded at the guard and Zayn did as well though he didn’t seem bothered by any of it. Liam couldn’t tell if was because he was used to it or if he just didn’t care; he was seeing his mom and that was all that seemed to really matter to him. Liam would have been lying if he were to say he didn’t notice the slight bounce in Zayn’s step as they followed the guard outside and across the yard to a picnic table where they were told to wait.

“She’s going to be so surprised,” Zayn said as he and Liam started to unpack the Cracker Barrel bags, setting the containers of turkey breasts, dressing and gravy, and all the sides around the table.

Liam looked up from the plates he’d started to set on the table, “She doesn’t know you’re coming?”

“No, I didn’t tell her, I wanted her to be surprised.”

“Babe…that’s really sweet, actually.”

“She’s doesn’t really like me visiting here much, but tomorrow’s Thanksgiving and I just thought it’d be nice if we sort of shared the holiday together-”

“Zayn?!”

          The two men turned in the direction of the woman’s shriek and Zayn didn’t spare a second before he was moving quickly to the petite, dark-haired woman heading their way. Liam couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face as he watched the way Zayn practically fell into his mother’s embrace, his head falling to her shoulder as if he wasn’t inches taller than her. The two stayed like that for a long while, only breaking momentarily to allow her to give him another once over before she was pulling him back into her arms. They got lost in their exchange and Liam got lost in his own thoughts.

          Liam was envious of Zayn. Not because of his brains or his looks or any of those other stellar qualities of his that he brought to the table. He was envious because Zayn had something Liam would never have. Zayn’s mother was locked away from society, sheltered in a place miles away from where Zayn was, and still, Zayn had what Liam didn’t have from two parents. Zayn had love. Liam was pulled from his thoughts when Zayn came back to his table.

“Mom, this is Liam. Liam, this is my mom Valen.”

“You're Liam?” she smiled, extending her hand as Liam stood to shake to it. “I'm so glad to meet you. Zayn has spoken about you so often. Thank you for taking the trip with him.”

“It wasn't a problem. It's a pleasure to meet you as well, I've heard a lot about you.”

          Valen glanced to her son, earning a nod in exchange from him before she turned back to Liam.

“And still, knowing what you know about me, you came?”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Liam shook his head, giving a hunch of his shoulders.

          It was a lie, but she didn’t need to know that and bringing up how uncomfortable he was would only make the entire situation uncomfortable. This was a day for Zayn to be happy, and he wasn’t going to do anything to cause that smile on his face to falter.

“You brought food?” Valen smiled at Zayn.

“Yeah, I thought we could have Thanksgiving dinner,” Zayn glanced to his watch. “Or lunch.”

“You didn’t have to do all of this, Zayn,” she said.

          It was obvious that she was moved by the gesture, though, her smile never wavering as Zayn led her to the table and took her plate to start dishing food out onto it. It was a nice dinner. It was a Thanksgiving like Liam had always hoped to experience: no bickering or insults, no arguing or politics; just conversation, catching up, sharing the good things. Zayn talked about school and his grandmother, she talked about her activities she occupied her time with. Valen even talked to Liam about himself, really showed an interest in him and his interests without ever mentioning football. It was nice to talk about his passion for art or the classes he did enjoy without being berated for it. It was nice to have someone listen and wish him well, encourage him to keep with his passions and talents because there was no telling what they could pan out to. She was definitely no Brice Payne, and because of that, Liam was envious of Zayn.

“I’m going to grab some drinks from the vending machine, I’ll be right back!” Zayn said after what felt like an eternity of conversation, moving from the bench.

          Before Liam could stop him or offer to join him, Zayn was jogging quickly in the direction of the vending machines across the yard. Liam let out a soft sigh and turned to lock gazes with Zayn’s mother who stared back at him quietly only to offer a small smile.

“So, you’re from Texas, Liam?”

          Staring at her, Liam couldn’t help but to relax, even alone with her. That smile was so familiar, so like the one he managed to pull out of Zayn so often. Those eyes held that same twinkle his did. He was overcome with a sense of trust in her, like she was someone he could tell everything to, like a parent. A real parent. Liam felt all those bundles of nerves unraveling within him as he cleared his throat.

“Yes, ma’am, born and bred.”

“Zayn tells me you play football.”

Liam nodded, “It’s kind of a thing in my family, I guess. Both of my brothers played, my dad and grandpa did. My grandpa actually did two seasons with the Giants one year, but he decided it wasn’t what he wanted and then gave it all up just to go on back home to Texas.”

“He put aside a pro football career just to go back home?”

“Start a contracting company, a family,” Liam chuckled. “Guess it fared out better than football; it made him a household name in Texas. Football ain’t even do that.”

“You should really proud of your grandfather,” Valen smiled.

“I guess I kinda am.”

“Is your father a contractor as well?”

Liam fell quiet for only a moment then shook his head, “No, he used to be a lawyer. He’s a state senator…for now.”

“For now?”

“He’s planning to run for a different office next year. He wants to be lieutenant governor of the state.”

“But that’s good, right? He’s moving up.”

“It’s just, I don’t know,” Liam shrugged. “Me and my dad don’t see eye-to-eye all the time. I’m a firm believer that if you can’t be open-minded then you shouldn’t represent or make decisions for the masses.”

“That’s very true. But maybe you’re feeling that way because you’re his son. Children don’t always get along with their parents. At least, for a part of their lives. I’ve been here most of Zayn’s teenage years and I still had to deal with grief from him. Every chance I got, I called my mother and it was something new, and I had to talk to him and try to parent over a phone line,” Valen said, offering another soft expression. “But maybe he’s doing something right if he thinks he has a winning chance. The people must find something to like about him?”

“The people like him…because they don’t know him,” Liam spoke then swallowed before he opened his mouth to talk again. “Mrs. Malik…”

“Yes, love?”

“How did it feel?”

“I’m sorry?”

“When you did it…you know, when you killed Zayn’s dad,” Liam asked lowly. “Did you feel better?”

“Liam…” Reaching across the table, she took his hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze as she tried in vain to make eye contact with him. “I doubt your dad has done anything so bad to bring you to those thoughts.”

          Liam’s mind flooded with thoughts of his past, thoughts of things he strived to forget, but that resurfaced in his braid far more often than he wanted them to.

“No offense, Mrs. Malik, but you don’t know my dad either,” Liam whispered. “And you don’t know the things he’s done.”

________________________________________________________________________

“Li?”

“Hmm?”

          Liam didn’t shift his gaze from the window, staring at the rows and rows of trees and woods they passed on the highway as they headed back to their hotel.

“Liam, what’s wrong? You’ve been being quiet like this since halfway through lunch.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Bullshit, baby. What’s wrong? Is it about whatever you talked to my mom about?”

“Me and your mom just talked about school and stuff. You were there.”

“Not when I left the table.”

“We didn’t talk about anything.”

“Mom said you were kind of upset about something; she told me I should talk to you.”

“I wasn’t upset.”

          Zayn sighed and focused all of his attention back to the road ahead, but several minutes later, he was pulling to the shoulder and turning Liam’s truck off.

“Why are you stopping?” Liam looked at him.

“Because we’re not going anywhere until you talk to me,” Zayn said. “What’s wrong? Even when you’re mad or annoyed, you don’t get this quiet.”

          Liam looked back to the window, staring out of it at the wooded area off the road, not returning his eyes to Zayn until he felt his hand against his thigh.

“My mom was worried.”

“Lucky you.”

“What?”

“You’re lucky to have a mom who worries,” Liam stated. “You’re lucky to have a mom who gives a shit about you and what you like and who you are, and who doesn’t try to change those things. You’re lucky to have a parent that loves you. Hell, your mom fucking killed someone because she loved you and wanted you out of a bad situation,” Liam sighed. “Your mom has spent most of your life here and she’s still a better parent than either of mine have ever been. I guess…I don’t know, I wish I had parents like that.”

“Liam…” Zayn unbuckled himself so that he could turn to face the man next to him, reaching out to touch at his hand. “Your parents love you. Look how often your dad comes to your games, and he seems extremely invested in trying to make sure you keep everything together to get signed like you want.”

“No!” Liam shouted, startling Zayn. “No, Zayn, that’s not what I want. That’s what he wants; he wants me in the pros. He didn’t make it happen with himself or Evan or Collin, so I’m his last hope. I don’t want to play football, and I don’t want to be a doctor either, and I’m especially afraid of him finding about us because I don’t want to go back to that place. It’s, like, torture there, and I don’t want to go back, ever,” Liam murmured, his voice breaking at the end as his tears started to fall.

“Wha-what place, Li?”

“The institution he sent me to the last time.”

“What last time? What are you talking about?”

“The last time he found out I was seeing a guy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: [livewhilewereforeveryoung](http://livewhilewereforeveryoung.tumblr.com)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has been so long coming, and I'm sorry if I overlooked any typos or anything during my proofreading, but I hope it's still enjoyable!

          The inside of the truck was completely silent as Zayn waited for some sort of further explanation that never came, something – anything – to explain away the harsh words Liam used to describe his former psychiatrist, but none ever came. Instead, Zayn found himself on the receiving end of another shut down from Liam as he retreated back into the silence that’d filled the car before. Wordlessly, Zayn reached over to let his hand trail over the taut muscles in Liam's left bicep, which only hardened under his touch.

“Don't,” Liam spoke. “I don't want your pity.”

“I-I'm not giving you pity,” Zayn stammered.

“Yes, you are, Zayn,” Liam pushed his hand away. “I don't want it. I'm fine and I'm going to be fine.”

“Liam-”

“Can we just go to wherever it is that we're going?”

“Li-”

“I don't want to talk about it, Zayn,” Liam said. “It's over and I just hope I never have to go back there.”

“It's not over,” Zayn shook his head. “You won't even acknowledge a friendship with me to some of your friends because you're afraid they'll think we're dating, you lie to the friends who _know_ we have some sort of a relationship, and you will never tell your parents anything about me or us. You're only with me when we're behind closed doors or hundreds of miles away from everyone you know. You're ashamed, Liam, and I’m starting to see why. No, it's not over.”

          Liam looked up and over to Zayn then, his eyes locking straight onto Zayn’s. Each held the gaze of the other for what seemed like eternity before Liam leaned over the console situated between them to press his lips to Zayn’s. It wasn’t heavy or heated or even very extended, but it was full of emotions Liam was too afraid to acknowledge aloud, emotions that inundated every part of his soul but that he wouldn’t bring to the surface.

Pulling back, Liam brought his hand up to touch at his cheek, thumb brushing against it as he spoke, “I’m not ashamed of you, Zayn. Look at you,” he smiled. “You’re absolutely gorgeous, you’re smart, you like all things amazing.”

“You’re not ashamed yet we have to be a secret.”

“We don’t have to be.”

“Liam,” Zayn scoffed, shaking his head. “You told you dad you were on the opposite side of the country to explain your absence from the Thanksgiving dinner table this year. If we didn’t have to be a secret, you wouldn’t have lied. That stuff that you experienced isn’t over, Liam, and you can keep talking all of this shit to me about how you don’t care about this and that, and how you’re okay now, but your actions say otherwise –”

“I don’t care, Zayn.”

“Yeah?” Zayn questioned, earning a nod from Liam. Reaching into the cup holder, Zayn grabbed for his cell phone and held it out to Liam, challenging him as he murmured, “Call your dad right now. Tell him about Florida.”

Liam glanced back and forth between Zayn and the phone, and he shifted nervously in his seat. Zayn snorted a soft laugh as he set his phone back into its spot and turned to the steering wheel.

“That’s exactly what I thought,” he said with a shake of his head as he started the car. “You say so much, but your actions speak volumes over all your words.”

________________________________________________________________________

          Liam had been asleep for hours, but Zayn just couldn’t let his mind shut down to join him. He should have been trying to catch up on all of the rest he could, given the day he had ahead of him, but Zayn couldn’t shake thoughts that’d implanted themselves in his brain in Liam’s truck, thoughts that overshadowed every conversation and scenario he imagined coming to life over dinner that following day.

          Glancing over to Liam to ensure his slumber, Zayn sat up then slowly eased out of bed, going over to his bag where he retrieved his laptop then made himself comfortable at the desk in the hotel room. He heard a rustle of the sheets and looked to see Liam stir slightly though he didn’t wake. Focusing back to the computer, he typed the name he’d committed to memory that day in the car into a search engine.

          His eyes skimmed over to the links the search returned as he tried to decide which to click first. Starting with the hospital’s website, a photo of a picturesque facility came into view. The building was large, and the land surrounding even larger. He even spotted basketball and tennis courts in the background. The place looked magnificent and, from all appearances, looked nothing like what Liam had described it to be.

          Recognizing the name in the headline as one he’d heard Liam say repeatedly in the truck that day, Zayn clicked a link on the home page, opening an article about Liam’s former doctor receiving an award for his work. Dark brows furrowed as he skimmed through, picking up keywords in the article: depression, convulsive, therapy, extreme, words that sent his mind reeling, words that had him skimming all over the webpage for the answers to questions his brain was slowly forming.

          Zayn went back to the search results, combing through for something other than the amazing work of Dr. Lars Bennett. Several pages in, he clicked a link to a blog posting. Liam stirred again and Zayn glanced over, prepared to shut the screen and rejoin him in bed, but the other boy simply turned onto his side and continued to sleep. On the screen, the post had completely loaded and Zayn began to read, stomach turning and tightening with upset with nearly every line:

> _**Anonymous asked:** the hospital ive been in for the last 2 months is shutting down n my parents talked about sending me to green meadows in tx. i kno u mentioned being there. how was it?_
> 
> _Yes, I did time at Green Meadows. I say ‘did time’ because I don’t think I’m stretching things when I say it’s comparable to prison. I know I have never delved too far into my experience there, and it’s mostly because there is a lot of my time there that I just can’t remember, but to save you from your parents making the same err in judgment that mine did, I will._
> 
> _First, let me state that I have never suffered from depression a day in my life - not before Green Meadows at least. When I was 15, I came out to my parents. I don’t know how or why or what led to the conversation, but apparently at 15, I did. That was it. That was what I did to cause my parents so much worry for my future. My sexuality was a problem that they felt I needed treatment for and so, I was sent to Green Meadows where I was diagnosed with severe depression._
> 
> _I was treated by Dr. Lars Bennett, who is one of the leading psychiatrists in the country when it comes to depression. He’s somewhat of a legend in the world of shrinks, I guess. I remember my first time in his office; I could barely tell what color the walls were because he had awards on nearly every corner of them. I think we met him twice, maybe three times, but that last time, I know my parents went back to New York without me and left me in the hands of Dr. Bennett so he could treat my depression that I didn't have._
> 
> _The thing about Green Meadows is to be treated for my “ailment” there – the one I’m told my parents dragged me from doctor to doctor trying to fix before they heard about Dr. Bennett – you have to be depressed. Severely depressed. Only then can Dr. Bennett and his team administer their great cure._
> 
> _They told me all the time that being gay wasn’t a choice, but that I didn't have to live with it forever, that they could fix me. Their fix was a half-assed anesthetic they never gave enough time to let kick in, an exam table with straps to hold me down, something placed on my tongue to hold it down and a bunch of people whose names and faces I can’t even remember anymore telling me to relax before they sent almost 200 volts to my brain. That was their fix; that was their cure that apparently had hit the underground to reach every parent with tens of thousands of dollars to spend on treatment for their “sick” children._
> 
> _While it may be a secret to everyone tossing accolades at Dr. Bennett for his successful treatment of depression, his treatment of homosexuals for an illness they don’t always suffer from is no secret within the hospital. In addition to the convulsive therapy, I remember there was somewhat of an attempt at brainwashing in which they practically try to scare you straight._
> 
> _Scare tactics to cure patients seemed to be a running theme from floor to floor as well. The orderlies were overly abrasive and cruel to “the crazies”, as they called us, and I very vividly remember a girl in my water aerobics class break her ankle after one of them shoved her when she refused to get in the water._
> 
> _If it makes up for it, though, the hospital also offers basketball, yoga, tennis and art as well as world class dining with a fresh fruit and salad bar at every meal time. For those who succumb to becoming a zombie for a while, as I did, you have a private room to sleep your life away in, complete with a television they put a channel lock on, a phone you're not allowed to use and a single person bed, which they're nice enough to change the linen on every day for you. It’s a world class retreat away life…if you sleep all day._
> 
> _I signed something before I left, and I shouldn't be telling you any of this, but I don't want someone else go through what I did when I may have the chance to save them._

          Zayn released the intake of air he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in, and dropped the hand that’d unconsciously came up to cup his mouth after it’d managed to muffle the whimper that escaped his lips. He moved almost in a frantic sort of daze then, trying to wrap his head around it all, as he hurriedly closed the windows and shut his laptop. Sliding back into bed, he shifted until his chest was flush against Liam's back, draping an arm across Liam's middle and burying his face between broad blades.

          Liam let out a low groan as he turned over, slowly peeking his eyes open. His vision barely came into focus on the other man before he shut them again, but not before locking both arms around Zayn's smaller frame and pressing his lips to his forehead. Folding into Liam in reciprocation, Zayn’s fingers clutched onto his shirt as if he would disappear if Zayn let him go in any way as he softly spoke words that Liam couldn’t hear.

“You’re okay now…you’re mine, with me, and you’re okay…”

 

________________________________________________________________________

 

          The next morning, Zayn awoke when the smell of food hit his nostrils. Blinking his eyes open, Zayn looked to the nightstand where two muffins sat on a paper plate.

“Good morning!”

Sitting up in bed, Zayn looked to the clock first. “Just barely,” he chuckled, reading the lines of red indicating it was nearing 11:30.

“Yeah, sorry,” Liam laughed, stepping to Zayn with a cup in hand. “I think we pretty much missed the breakfast they had in the lobby. I managed to grab some of what was leftover when I came in from the store, though.”

          Handing over the cup emblazoned with the hotel’s name on the side, Liam pressed a kiss to the side of Zayn’s head before he moved to where their suitcases sat on the floor.

“Why’d you go to the store?” Zayn questioned as he took a sip of the coffee that Liam had prepared with just the right amount of everything Zayn was used to.

“For your pies and wine.”

“My what?”

Liam turned back to Zayn, “Last night, you mentioned maybe going to the grocery and grabbing dessert and a bottle of wine for dinner. Well, you were sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you, so I ran out for something. I hope they like apple and sweet potato.”

          A smile crept over Zayn’s face, growing wider when he watched Liam return to sifting through his abundance of shirts. His face fell, though, when thoughts of the night before came back to him. Liam had some quips about him, things he should definitely work on and maybe considering changing; but feeling what he felt for whomever he felt them for wasn’t one of them, and his emotions definitely didn’t warrant that kind of a tortuous experience. But it was Thanksgiving, and Zayn wasn’t going to address it just yet. They had an entire 16-hour drive home left to take for that.

“I like that plaid one – the one with the red,” Zayn offered his opinion when Liam seemed torn and took another drink of his coffee then set it aside with the muffins. “I’m going to take a quick shower and get dressed.”

“I was about to do the same. You can go ahead, though.”

Zayn was quiet for a moment before he shrugged his shoulders as he whispered, “We could just go together, save some time.”

Liam looked amused as he grinned at Zayn, “You know how to put that shy act on when you want to, don’t you? Like the way you did last night when you had me stop at that drug store and then went and got all shy about going to the counter.”

“I just didn’t want that cashier forming any ideas in her head about us.”

“What kind of ideas? That we were going to be fucking at some point?”

          Rolling hazel eyes, Zayn pushed the gaudy comforter back and slid out of bed, groaning on his way to the bathroom.

“Don’t put it that way.”

“What do you want me to say?” Liam laughed, following behind Zayn. “Messing around?”

“Tacky.”

“Making love?”

“Cheesy.”

“Being intimate?”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

          When Zayn stepped back from starting the shower, Liam linked an arm around his mid-section to pull him in, pecking at his lips with a whisper against them.

“I’m just going to call it claiming you.”

 

________________________________________________________________________

 

“Zayn!”

          The brunette on the opposite side of the door shrieked excitedly at the sight of the young man on the doorstep, slightly chubby arms wrapping around Zayn in a hug that seemed to last far too long for his liking.

“Zayn?! Is that Zayn? I didn’t get his RSVP; I assumed he wasn’t coming. Is he here?”

          Hurrying to the door with regality in every move she made, an older woman with curls of bleach blond reached out to him with a warm grin spread across her face.

“Zayn! Darling, I’m so glad you’re here. I hope you had a safe trip,” she beamed as she pulled back to cup Zayn’s face in her hands before she took notice of Liam then, her smile shifting to a look of curiosity. “Oh? You brought a friend?”

“Yes, I did. This is Liam Payne. Liam, this is my grandmother, Nora.”

“Hello, Mrs…?” Liam extended his hand to shake hers.

“Lauder; some of keep our names even after our loved ones who bequeathed us with them have gone,” she said with a look to Zayn.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you then, Mrs. Lauder,” Liam forced a smile, trying to ignore the blatant tension between the older woman and her grandson.

“And you as well, but please, call me Nooni. It’s what all of my grandchildren call me,” she said as she wrapped her arms around Katherine’s shoulders, sending her in the opposite direction. “Katherine, set out some extra place settings for Zayn and Mr. Payne here.”

“This is for dinner,” Zayn handed over the bottle of wine. “I also brought a couple of pies.”

Nora seemed to be scrutinizing the bottles as she stared at the label, reading over it. “I still cannot believe you are even old enough to purchase wine let alone possess the skill to select one as fine as this one.”

“Actually, this selection was all on Liam,” Zayn smiled over to him which only served to cause Liam’s cheeks to flush a bit.

“Um,” he cleared his throat. “It’s just something I know my dad drinks at his parties and events.”

“What does your father do?”

“Um…” Liam took a glance at Zayn who quickly interjected.

“He’s a head football coach.”

“Oh, at your school? Do you play?” she turned back to Liam.

“Um…”

“It’s a simple question, m’dear. You can’t rely on Zayn to answer everything for you.”

“He’s just-”

“Shh, Zayn.”

“No, he doesn’t coach at my school, but I do play. He and I don’t really chat much since he’s a little far away.”

“I’m sorry, dear,” she frowned, glancing to Zayn for only a moment. “Still, you should consider yourself lucky to have a father, one who hasn’t been ripped away from you.”

“Okay, great! We’re all acquainted! Is dinner ready?” Zayn grabbed Liam’s hand and tugged him in the direction of the dining room where a host of women were preparing the table for dinner.

“Look who made it!”

          A blonde stepped over to Zayn, appearing very much like the woman they’d just left. In fact, all three of the ladies did. They reminded Liam much of the women he wasn’t spending the holiday with for the first time, those he’d left back in Texas. They brought memories of his mother, his aunts, his own grandmother - women who based their worth in the pockets and prestige of their husbands, whose biggest priorities were making sure a hair was never out place, their clothes were the latest, and ensuring their children followed in the steps of the traditional gender roles played out before them their entire lives.

“And who is this handsome young man?”

“This is Liam,” Zayn introduced before going down the line to point out the three women then their daughters, seemingly ranging in age from late teens to preschool-aged. “Liam, these are my aunts – Bethany, Jackie and Elizabeth, and my cousins – Emma, Noel, Cece, Elena, Katherine and…I have no clue. I didn’t know you had another baby, Aunt Jackie.”

There was a glance at Noel before the woman spoke with a smile and a nod, “Yes, this is Zoe. She’s 5 months as of yesterday.”

“Congratulations. Is Justin here?”

“Yeah, he’s just in the room watching football. Come on, let me take you there,” Bethany offered.

“No, no. Liam and I aren’t staying. We just wanted to stop by,” Zayn quickly stopped her.

With a raise of an eyebrow, Elizabeth chuckled, “You came all the way to Florida just to stop by? That’s a long drive for a drop in.”

“He’s not dropping in. They’re staying for dinner. Call the boys; we’re ready to begin.”

          All heads in the room turned to the doorway at the sound of Nora’s voice before the ladies all scattered to continue prepping just as she asked when she walked away.

 

________________________________________________________________________

 

          Liam got it. Thirty minutes into dinner and he got it; he understood why Zayn had limited contact with his father’s family. They couldn’t seem to talk to Zayn without mentioning his deceased father or his just as deceased grandfather, sharing their upset over the fact that Zayn wouldn’t learn the family business to take over his father’s end and the fact that Zayn had no desire to.

“Liam, what about you? What are you studying?”

Looking across the table to Zayn’s seemingly only male cousin, Liam gave a small smile, “I’m studying pre-med right now.”

“Pre-med, hmm? Well, if Zayn is going to be the way he is, we should all at least be thankful that he found a man with goals. Maybe he can handle the house while you’re doing something that will actually earn a living,” Nora chimed in.

“Um, Mrs. Lauder, not to be rude, but Zayn is extremely intelligent. He’s got a passion for what he’s studying and he’s going to go far in whatever field he goes into. I’m sorry it’s not the business you’d like for him, but he’s got the – _umph_ – to change the world with this science stuff because he gets it and he’s good at it.”

“Well, all of his – _umph_ , as you call it – would have been better suited to our family business where he belongs,” Justin spoke. “If it weren’t for that spawn of satan, lying mother of his, my uncle would be here teaching Zayn everything he needs to know to help me run that thing just like he and my grandfather did – together.”

“Dude, fuck you. That’s my mom you’re talking about,” Zayn pushed away from the table then to stand.

“Your mom’s a liar, and I swear if they release her this year, she’s got some real shit coming to her for everything she did to Uncle Scott.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Calm down, this is not the time,” Nora tried to get a word in when Justin stood to look Zayn square in the eyes.

“No, Nooni, he’s here now and he needs to hear it. God knows when we’ll see him again,” Justin said. “Your mother is a liar who was lucky enough to find a judge she could swindle to see things her way. She’s in jail where she belongs and if she gets out, it won’t be pretty for her. I know you’ve seen her. I know you talk to her. Let her know. That’s the only warning I’m giving.”

“How fucking dare you?! You have idea what kind of person he was.”

“Zayn, we can go.” Liam stood, grabbing his and Zayn’s jackets from the back of their chairs, but his words went unheard by the other man as he continued to speak in his anger.

“You people are so fucking ridiculous. Your son, your brother, your uncle deserved everything he got and then some. He didn’t know when enough was enough and when to fucking quit. He learned his lesson that night; he wasn’t going to hurt my mom again.”

          Liam could see identical expressions cross the faces of every adult at the table as their brows furrowed with Zayn’s words, and Liam knew then that it was time to go.

“Zayn.”

          Zayn glanced to his grandmother, immediately turning away at the look on her face. There was shame there, disappointment, confusion, and amongst it all, there was still concern.

“Thanks for dinner, but we have to leave. We have a long drive home in the morning and we need to rest,” Zayn took his jacket Liam offered up, slipping his arms into the leather sleeves.

“I’m sorry…Happy Thanksgiving, it was nice to meet you all.” Liam gave them an apologetic look as he followed Zayn out of the dining room.

          The two of them had barely made it out of the house and down the few stairs before the front door was yanked open and Nora was calling for Zayn, running to him with a wrapped box in hand.

“Zayn, wait!” she called, getting his attention enough to make him stop.

“I’ll be in the car,” Liam murmured, earning a nod from Zayn as he turned back to his grandmother.

          Through the windows, Liam watched the exchange: words spoken with a warm yet questioning expression he hadn’t seen from her the entire time they’d been there, a gift being refused but force upon Zayn, her cupping his face for one last look and a half-hearted hug from Zayn’s end before he came to the car, leaving her there outside the house to watch them pull away.

          The ride was quiet, Zayn staring out of the window the entire time until they were pulling into the parking lot of an iHop, Liam knowing they were both likely still hungry after their inability to finish their meals. Turning to Zayn, Liam approached the situation with slight caution, not wanting to upset him.

“Zayn…back there at the house – ”

          Liam couldn’t finish his words before he was cut off at the sound of Zayn sobbing next to him, the other man folding over to bury his face in his hands.

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered in muffles. “He pulled a gun on her…I got so scared… I didn’t mean to…”

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: [livewhilewereforeveryoung](http://livewhilewereforeveryoung.tumblr.com)


End file.
